


Fore Bonding

by Ulqueleh (Ulquii)



Series: Fore Bonding Series [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ASMR Artist Keith (Voltron), Age Difference, Alpha Acxa (Voltron), Alpha Allura (Voltron), Alpha Regris (Voltron), Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Broken-Bonded Shiro (Voltron), Gay Panic, I know it looks like I'm making everyone omegas but I swear there alphas and betas aside from Shiro, I mean, I'll just add them when they come up I swear, Keith smokes because that's hot, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not too severe, Omega Keith (Voltron), Omega Lance (Voltron), Omega Matt Holt, Omega Romelle (Voltron), Omega Verse, One-Sided Attraction, Only in fiction tho, Or that's what Shiro thinks lol, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Panic Attacks, Scenting, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, Shiro is 41 and Keith is 24, Slow Burn, Smoking, but still there, just be careful, probably, pseudo-scientific bullshit about secondary genders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulquii/pseuds/Ulqueleh
Summary: He’s not really sure how he found the first recording, but the title ‘soothing my alpha to sleep’ and the completely black thumbnail had piqued his curiosity. What he didn’t expect was for the rustle of cloth and a soft sigh falling from the speaker of his phone.“Hello, alpha, how are you?”~~Or the omegaverse AU where Shiro might be falling in love with the ASMR artist called Red until he meets him.Then he just falls harder.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Fore Bonding Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893277
Comments: 123
Kudos: 262





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> *Stares at the title* I'm... terrible at this. I maybe will change the title if something else comes to mind! 
> 
> Special thanks to Raven and Narnaa who tried to help me with the title and might be using their ideas for the chapters' titles!
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like this new concept I came up with [at 3 a.m.](https://twitter.com/ulqueleh/status/1285878559513485317)
> 
> You can read early, unedited and with-lots-of-typos updates on [here](https://twitter.com/ulqueleh/status/1286408975571914758)!

Shiro started to listening to the AMSR a few months ago. At first, with soothing music —classical Debussy was his favorite— and it slowly developed into those playlists with the sound of rain falling and the crack of a fire in the background.

He’s not really sure how he found the first recording, but the title ‘soothing my alpha to sleep’ and the completely black thumbnail had piqued his curiosity. What he didn’t expect was for the rustle of cloth and a soft sigh falling from the speaker of his phone.

“Hello, alpha, how are you?”

The voice was rich, soft-tuned and low, with a raspy quality that has Shiro gasping quietly, scrambling for his earphones.

It’s weird, to say the least, but after settling down on his bed, fully clothed with his suit and prosthesis still on, and listening attentively to the person speaking gently about his day and how much he missed having him, ‘his alpha,’ in his arms, Shiro feels the coziest he has ever felt.

He didn’t know when he nodded off, but he woke up the next day with the sun blaring on his face, his sheets and blankets disarranged around him and a pillow tightly on his arms.

Shiro feels well-rested. Warm despite being the start of winter, and he nuzzles the pillow in search of the sweet smell of his omega, groaning when the only scent there is his. When some clarity reaches him, he remembers there was no omega to begin with and the pain on his nape returns like salt to a wound. He whimpers, shifting over his pillow to find his phone, and blinks blearily at the black screen of the video, the title and name of the uploader, ‘Red’, in white letters at the top.

He’s reluctant for a bit before giving in and tapping on the handler, finding many more other recordings similar to the first. He finds out by the description of the channel that the one doing the recordings is, indeed, an omega who specialize in communications between secondary genders and the effects and possible solutions of the unbonded and broken-bonded, the recordings being a side project.

Shiro is broken-bonded. For almost a year now. And while he’s aware that there’s broken-bonded people out there in worse situations where the bond had to be broken because of external causes, in Shiro’s case, he was the one who made a huge mistake, so having the constant pain of a broken bond is the least he deserves for it. His therapist says otherwise, reminding him that it was his partner’s fault as much as Shiro’s, but Shiro still feels guilty. If he had put on a stop to it when they had the opportunity, the marriage, the bond and the eventual divorce and break of the bond would’ve never happened.

He sighs heavily and buries his face in the pillow while remembering his omega’s-- no, Red’s voice in his ears. It’s very weird to be put at ease by someone he has never met and maybe will never do, but he feels a deep rumble grow on his chest, his inner alpha strangely soothed silent instead of the constant, unsatisfied growl at the back of his head that threatens to echo out when he’s in distress.

Fortunately enough, it’s the weekend, so Shiro can stay at home for a slow morning and lazy afternoon rather than rushing to work after sleeping through his alarm. He stays in bed for a long time, researching about ASMR for alphas, omegas and even betas in emotional need. He finds out it’s kind of new development in the psychological branch, trying to subdue the negative effects of loneliness from non-bonds and broken bonds. Shiro is so invested in reading that he doesn't realize is almost noon and he hasn’t eaten breakfast until his stomach grumbles in hunger.

He spends the rest of the day eating leftovers and ordering in just to keep his research going, and he somehow, while clicking new links and opening new tabs, arrives to the same videos he found at first, Red’s recordings with a black screen and titles of ‘watching T.V. with my alpha’, ‘having coffee with my alpha,’ and ‘making my alpha dinner.’

It’s sweetly domestic, very different to other titles he has found in the lines of ‘sitting on my alphas knot,’ or ‘sucking my alpha off,’ from other channels he found while clicking on random links. But, weirdly enough, Shiro isn’t attracted to those as he is to Red’s. They’re too breathy, or too whiny, or just too sexual to what he needs. Red’s, on the other hand, are soothing and relaxing. His voice the perfect quantity of sweet and lovely and just so natural.

Shiro finds himself slowly blinking at the black screen, listening to Red talk about the recipe of pasta he’s cooking and the distinctive sounds of pans and the sizzle of butter, the deep rumble on his chest coming out without his consent. And as much as Shiro blames himself and is reminded by his therapist that he’s punishing himself for mistakes he didn’t have much to do with, he can’t ignore the way he feels after hearing the tiny and fond ‘good night, alpha,’ from his earphones, a smile already formed on his lips.

He decides he can’t keep living like this, and while he maybe wouldn’t know how to change his living pace the day before, that very night, while putting on his sleeping clothes and cuddling a pillow to his chest, he presses play to another of Red’s recordings, falling asleep to the softness of his voice, speaking about the weather and the clouds and the stars.

* * *

Shiro is in love. 

It's stupid, that kind of declaration. But he is. Helplessly so. 

He knows by now —three months of falling asleep to Red’s voice in his ears and listening to them even in his breaks and lunches, soothing his inner alpha in need of an emotional partner— that is common for the listeners to feel kind of restless and needy for more because of the ASMR. The recordings fulfill only one of the five senses, the hearing. The scent and the touch, which are the most important for an alpha and an omega, are neglected, so it’s very common to feel like something is missing, to feel the need of more of the recordings even when they don’t sate the ache at all. 

That’s why Shiro thought this longing sensation tugging at his chest about Red was normal, because there’s a lot of other alphas in the same situation as his that are feeling the same way while listening to the recordings. Also, he tries not to abuse of them, like some of the warnings have been appearing in the descriptions: ‘If problems persist, contact us.’ followed by an e-mail and a phone number he had stubbornly forgotten because he didn’t want to contact on a whim just to find who Red was. 

But, as days become weeks and the winter starts to melt in the spring warmth, he finds himself daydreaming about a raspy-soft voice talking to him and remembering sweet, beautiful dreams of waking up not alone for once. 

He’s at his 40s, he shouldn’t be dreaming of a crush —ahem, a crush he has never met before— like a freaking teenager, nor crave the warmth of another person with a meaningless hook-up as if he’s in his 20s as a free man. He never had a big sexual drive, to begin with, but even more than once he has noticed how he grows hard at Red’s voice, much to his mortification. The recordings aren’t to satisfy him sexually, they serve a better purpose as an emotional balm to his needs as an alpha. But sometimes he needs it, so he searches for the ASMR he found those three months ago, with whiny and breathy omegas begging him to knot them. 

Either way, Shiro tried to pay no mind of how he feels about Red and how his thoughts always go to him when he isn’t drowned in paper work, thinking is just the side effects even when he isn’t, like, ‘overdosing’ with them. 

One morning, though, he wakes up to Red’s voice still talking to him about the flowers he has seen at the park, and feels so happy the rumble on his chest starts without him noticing —is the automatic response to omegas’ purr— and, while he has started to rumble as answer to Red’s voice, he’s still very surprised to be easily coaxed to it by an omega he has never met, when, even when married, Shiro never had the desire to do so at his partner. 

Adam didn’t purr at him, though, so that’s that. 

He’s in love. With someone he has never met and might as well never will. 

Shiro puts himself at the task of getting up and getting ready for work. He knows it’s still a bit early to be at the office, but he thinks of going to the coffee shop some of his co-workers have been recommending him. He’s not fond of coffee, more akin to sweetened tea, but there must be more than just coffee on a coffee shop. 

He walks there, wanting to take a deep breath of the spring air before his allergies strike, and takes his time to glance at the other stores in the block. When he enters the coffee shop, he’s surprised to find it kind of busy, so he gets in line and tries to focus on what he’s going to order to avoid delaying the line. 

But there’s something odd in the air, a scent different but still alike fresh coffee making him sniff curiously. It’s smoky, but there’s nothing burning and no one is lighting a cigarette inside the local. It’s sweeter than tobacco, though, and Shiro closes his eyes to smell it better. It has the same quality than caffeine, making Shiro feel more awake and aware. 

It must be one of the omegas at the shop, which is kind of weird because Shiro can smell most of the people seated on the tables or waiting for their orders, but he can’t really identify the origin of that smell. 

Then it’s his turn. Shiro realizes he hasn’t chosen a beverage, and looks down to the server to apologize and ask for a few seconds to read the menu above them when he stills completely, gaping wordlessly at the most beautiful man he has ever seen —long, black hair framing his face, gorgeous indigo eyes that look sharp and intense as a shot of expresso, delicate features but a rugged scar on his right cheek, he’s lean under the brown overall and red shirt and Shiro can’t tear his eyes from him. 

Then he takes a sharp breath because the man is looking at him, opening plush lips to ask about his order with a half-hearted smile, and Shiro smells it —The smoky, caffeine-like scent is coming from him, and Shiro blushes like a teenager. 

“Can I take your order?” he asks, and it just gets worse because Shiro knows that voice and he has grown too fond of it and he can’t help gasping: 

“Red?” 

The man looks up at him, slight frown smoothing just to raise up his brows under his fringe, and the blush across his cheeks makes Shiro want to not only rumble, but outright _growl_. 

“W-what? I don’t...” 

But Shiro tunes out the meaning of the spoken words, just focusing on the voice, and only the self-restraint he has worked on for decades ever since he presented as an alpha makes him stop himself from leaning over the counter and to the omega and scent him properly, wanting to hear that voice near his ears as he always does every night but this time in real life. 

Shiro wants him. 

And not only because he’s the prettiest omega he has ever seen, or because he smells _amazing_ —Shiro is not that shallow and knot-brained— but because his inner alpha feels automatically soothed by the stuttering voice and wants to erase the distress that he can sense from the omega. Wants to eliminate the threat. Wants his omega to feel secure. 

He wants to protect, and to hold, and to make him _his_ , and--- 

“Can you stop that?!” 

Wait. 

“What,” Shiro blurts out, suddenly out of the daze, and then notices how his hormones are all over the place, possessive and wanting, most of the people in the shop, customers and workers alike, giving him a dirty look, “Oh my god, I’m so-” 

“Just-” the omega interrupts, bringing a hand to his reddening face and sighing, exhausted, “stop it, okay? Wait for me a few minutes outside and we’ll talk.” 

Shiro closes his mouth with a click, not expecting him to agree to a conversation with a stupid alpha as himself, much less propose it himself, but nods. 

“Um,” the omega —Keith, he reads on his tag— says, shooting a glance over Shiro’s shoulder when he doesn’t move, “your order, then?” 

“ _Shit_ ,” Shiro hisses, scrambling for his wallet and ordering the first thing he sees on the menu, “An americano.” 

Just as he says it, he grimaces, and Keith stares at him with his eyes narrowed. Shiro gets even more flustered and feels his blush reach the tips of his ears. 

“Please,” he croaks, not wanting to attempt to change the drink, “a large one, with a cookie.” 

He pays it, not giving Keith more than a glance when he retrieves his card and their fingers brush, and fights himself to walk away and run from the coffee shop entirely and forever, Keith’s silent ‘I’ll bring it to you outside,’ stopping him from outright escaping from the most embarrassing moment of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!
> 
> ~
> 
> Come and yell with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ulqueleh)!


	2. Black tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t like it. He wants to give the right answer to his omega. He wants to be right for his omega. 

Shiro is a disaster. 

A complete, utter disaster. 

At least when he was married, he was only half a disaster, but now, waiting for Red- _Keith_ , waiting for Keith outside the coffee shop he just flooded in possessive alpha hormones, he’s a total and pathetic disaster. 

He shifts in the seat, his leg jumping up and down anxiously, and tries not to think of what Keith wants to talk about, failing miserably. It doesn’t help that he has his hands empty, fidgeting with his own fingers while his mind derails in many —negative— possibilities. He wishes he had the dreadful americano just to drown himself in bitter sorrow. 

Endless minutes pass and Shiro feels about to combust from shame and embarrassment when the door opens to someone who isn’t a costumer in search for their caffeine of the day or with their coffee already acquired. Keith steps out and Shiro springs out from his seat, startling him a bit while he manages to close the door with his toe. His hands are full, Shiro notices, with two cups of steaming coffee —Shiro tries to hide his grim this time— and two paper bags with the name of the coffee shop “Coran’s Covfeve” in orange and white. Shiro asks himself if the spelling was intentional. 

“Calm down,” Keith says, softly, and Shiro thrums with how similar he sounds to the ASMR. 

While Keith takes seat beside him in the table, Shiro realizes Keith spoke like that because that is the way he can actually make Shiro to calm down. 

“Are you going to seat?” 

Shiro looks down at him, still awkwardly standing beside his empty chair, and flushes, nodding and settling down. 

Keith puts the cup of coffee meant for Shiro in front of him with the little paper bag wrapping up a chocolate chip cookie, and leans back on the chair while opening the other bigger bag, with an everything bagel with cream cheese. The other cup stays in the middle of the table, practically abandoned while Keith takes a bite. 

“So,” he says after swallowing, sparing Shiro a glance, “You listen to my ASMR?” 

Shiro takes his americano between his hands just to have something to do with them, and catches the way Keith gives his prosthesis a once over. 

“I-I,” he swallows, “Yeah, I do.” 

“For how long?” 

Shiro frowns, not expecting that kind of question. Of course, Keith would like to know if Shiro have been listening to them, it’s pretty obvious at this point, but Shiro is not sure why he wants to know about his time spent on listening to him talk to ‘his alpha’. 

“Three months,” he says, easily, because it’s the truth, but seeing Keith’s brow furrow in thought makes him think that’s not the right answer. 

He doesn’t like it. He wants to give the right answer to his omega. He wants to be right for his omega. 

Shiro catches himself before spreading more hormones and coughs inside his elbow, taking some time to recover from a painful blush. He feels Keith observe him, and it gets worse. He feels so self-conscious, so nervous. The person right in front of him _is_ Red. 

To his misfortune, Keith takes another bite and chews thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes at Shiro’s untouched coffee even when he just choked with his own spit. Shiro doesn’t care of it. He’s not going to take a sip from it when feeling so anxious —ever, if he’s lucky enough. 

“Everyday?” 

He snaps his eyes at him, Keith now straightening on his seat and attentively watching him. 

“No,” it’s not a lie, but it still makes his heart pound loudly in his ears as if it is. 

Keith stays silent for a minute or so, being a complete hell for Shiro, but when he talks again it’s to change the subject. 

“You don’t like coffee.” 

Shiro’s mouth opens, maybe to say something, maybe to retort, but he gapes for a bit before taking a hang of the existing words, too taken aback by how soft Keith’s tone is. 

“I-I- How do you-” 

“Your face and scent changed after you ordered,” Keith points out, reaching to take the untouched cup on Shiro’s hands and change it with the abandoned one in the middle of the table, “I’m guessing is because of the bitterness because you wanted to counteract it with the cookie, but, believe me, it wouldn’t work.” 

Shiro mouths again, shocked at how perceptive Keith is to scents, something very uncommon, and looks down to the other cup, which contents he doesn’t know. 

“I made you an out-of-season beverage, with spearmint from candy canes and black tea,” Keith explains when Shiro looks between him and the cup a few times, “If you don’t like coffee, I figured you liked sweet stuff, so I put a couple of sugar cubes in it. And lactose-free milk. I hope you like it.” 

Shiro doubts for a bit, his brow furrowed, but Keith’s voice and the soft, smoky scent coming from him soothes his worries easily. He takes a deep breath and then rises the cup to his lips. He’s careful for the hot liquid, but the second he tastes the sweetness and freshness from the infused tea, he feels all his body relax automatically, a low rumble on his chest. 

He doesn’t know he’s humming delighted until Keith huffs beside him. Shiro glances at him, lowering the cup, and Keith hides his smile behind the rim of the americano. 

“You liked it?” he asks, almost teases, and Shiro blushes. 

“I- Yeah, it’s-” he coughs, looking away, “It’s really good, thank you.” 

Keith nods, sipping the seemingly black coffee —Shiro doesn’t remember asking for any additions and he didn’t saw Keith put something to sweeten it— and then Shiro scents him: the smoky smell has barely changed, with pumpkin spice and cinnamon. 

He’s proud. 

Of himself, obviously, but Shiro still feels longing, unconsciously responding to it with scent of his own. Keith’s eyes widen at that, giving him a carefully neutral look, and then sighs, putting down the half-empty cup. 

“You know-” 

“Keith!” 

Both of them, and the four people in the rest of the outside tables, startle at the bang of the crystal door, a young man, with the same brown apron Keith had while attending the costumers, striding to them almost wildly enough to make Shiro’s fight or flight instinct turn on. 

“Your all-of-the-sudden, out-of-nowhere break is over,” the young man —Lance, Shiro reads on his nametag when he looms over Keith on their table— announces, posing his hands on his hips, “How dare you go on a break when we have a rush hour?!” 

And Shiro is struck by the sight of Keith rolling his eyes. 

“In a minute, Lance,” Keith says, not moving from his chair to even glance him, “I’m busy.” 

“It’s the second time this week, Keith,” Lance accuses, bending over him like a real threat. 

Keith seems unfaced, but Shiro feels weirdly terrified. 

“I said in a minute.” 

“NOW.” 

Keith takes a breath and gets up, punching his finger to Lance’s chest. 

“Listen to me, _asshole_ , I’m trying to have a conversation here. Could you please cover my shift for at least five minutes without being a fucking nuisance?” 

Lance scrunches his nose and shows his teeth at Keith, but turns on his heel and walks right back into the coffee shop. 

“Five minutes!” he yells right before closing the door, and Shiro can see through the window how he stomps back behind the cashier, suddenly showing a beaming, welcoming smile. 

“That idiot,” Keith grumbles, falling back to his seat and reaching for his cup. 

Shiro, still a bit shocked, watches Keith down the rest of the americano in a few gulps and then turn to him, giving him his full attention. 

“Look,” he starts, earnest and professional, “I’m making those recordings to help with a research a friend is making for her thesis, and I would like to know if you’d be interested in participating as a subject.” 

Shiro is aware of the research, he spent a whole day reading about it on the internet. But he doesn’t understand why he would be a subject. Yeah, he’s broken-bonded and might have been overusing Red’s AMSRs, if what happened inside the coffee shop is any hint of it, but... 

“But I’m not-” 

Keith raises his hand, showing the palm to ask him to stop instead of interrupting, and Shiro swallows up his words. 

“I’m not asking for an answer now,” Keith explains, glancing over the coffee shop and making a tiny eye roll, maybe because his co-worker is glaring at him from the cashier, “I need to talk to you about it more thoroughly and I don’t really have the time now.” 

Shiro nods, frowning, and Keith stands up, making Shiro do the same. Keith’s lips curve a bit on a side. 

“Also, what happened before,” Keith says, gesturing over the shop with the top of his head, his hair waving with the movement, and Shiro feels scandalized, “I feel like we could really help you. I wouldn’t want to let you go without offering help, so, yeah.” 

Shiro understands. So that’s why Keith wanted to talk to him. Suddenly all the negative possibilities his head fabricated look ridiculous 

“Okay...” he agrees, clearing his throat, “Yeah, okay. I’ll-” 

He cuts off, because he’s about to say ‘listen to you’ and it’s mortified that he has actually been listening to him for months but only now he has an actual conversation with him. It’s very ridiculous. 

“Don’t worry,” Keith soothes, his tone similar with the ASMR but with amusement tinting it at the edges, and Shiro blushes, “My shift ends at 5, is that good?” 

Shiro looks down to his shoes to think, mentally moving a few appointments in his agenda to get out of his office early for once. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’ll wait here for you,” Keith says and then turns to the shop, “See you later.” 

“See you...” 

Shiro watches him go, the smoky, spicy scent going with him, and he startles when Keith turns to him again, his hand holding open the door. 

“I didn’t hear your name,” he says, and Shiro lets out a breathy laugh. 

“Shiro,” he introduces himself, “Call me Shiro.” 

“Shiro,” Keith repeats, and there’s no way Shiro is going to forget how his voice sounds around his name, “Nice to meet you, Shiro. I’m Keith.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Shiro parrots back, ‘finally,’ he thinks faintly, and Keith smiles at him like he blurted it out like the stupid gay disaster he is. 

But there’s no response from him, the door closing right behind him and distorting his retreating figure with green-tinted glass. 

And it’s very weird, to finally have a face to put on the voice he has listened to while falling asleep and waking up for almost three months, but Shiro somehow feels even more fond to who Red-- Keith, is in real life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
> 
> 

> 
> * Short comments
>   
> 
> * Long comments
>   
> 
> * Questions
>   
> 
> * Constructive criticism
>   
> 
> * “<3” as extra kudos
>   
> 
> * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!
> 
> ~
> 
> Come and yell with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ulqueleh)!


	3. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t even know Keith. He’s just longing for the omega who talks to his alpha about dogs, pastries and the sea. 
> 
> He’s longing the image he made of Red, not Red himself. As much as Keith is unfairly gorgeous.

Shiro is in love. 

Black tea with sugar and spearmint candy cane is the absolute epitome of what heaven must taste like. 

It's what has Shiro floating in cloud nine all morning. The memory of the sweet-minty taste making him sigh dreamily and gain some weird looks from his co-workers. But he doesn’t care, he has meetings to lead and papers to sign before meeting Keith that evening, and he doesn’t want to be late just because his co-workers find his uplifting mood awkward. 

He doesn’t blame them —It’s true that his mood has been decaying ever since the divorce a year and a half ago, the bond being broken annoying him up even more because of the constant ache in the back of his neck and the headaches, the fading bonding mark craving for the lost connection. 

There wasn’t a connection to begin with, Shiro liked Adam enough, but he’s sure Adam just barely tolerated him. They were very close friends before dating. Shiro actually wondering if kissing him suddenly while studying during midterms would make their love story bloom. He never did, of course, because before a competent romantic, Shiro is a gay disaster, and he would have gay-panicked before actually accomplishing something with Adam by himself. 

Either way, stuff started to feel wrong when they got together. Specially since it wasn’t because they both wanted it. The felt pressured by their acquaints, by the people Shiro called his friends but thought they had a better grasp on what Shiro wanted for his life than himself. 

They told him he was lucky to have Adam; Shiro felt lucky they haven’t killed each other during their first years as boyfriends. 

They told him he wanted a partner, a family; Shiro wanted to be in the stars. 

They told him he was going to get killed by his disease; Shiro proved them wrong by crashing his spaceship and losing the arm that had the deteriorating cells of his sickness and got miraculously saved and suddenly cured. 

They told him he needed a bond to be happy; Shiro lost what little he had of happiness after he bonded with Adam. 

And maybe things wouldn’t have gone so wrong if Adam felt as trapped as Shiro did. Then they could have escaped together and maybe could still talk to each other without bitterness. 

But Adam was the same as them. He wanted to tell Shiro what to do, what he wanted when he never, not even once, listened to Shiro’s dreams without twisting his face at how immature and stupid they sounded. Adam wanted a partner Shiro wasn’t, he wanted a family he wouldn’t get with Shiro, he wanted Shiro to feel grateful for the crash because then he could spend more time with him instead of chasing dumb dreams, because almost dying was what Shiro needed to freaking wake up and be a proper adult. 

Shiro hated it. He has no idea how he lived under Adam’s constant supervision for so long, as if he was a child. And while the broken bond hurt him, being out of Adam’s grasp had freed something inside him that he wasn’t aware was trapped. 

And while, yeah, the divorce process and the painful break of a bond was exhausting, Shiro started to feel like a free man again, finally to choose what to do with his life rather than be pushed around to a direction he didn’t totally want. 

That thought is what has him staring at the sky outside of the coffee shop, thinking thoroughly about being part of the research —it’s what keeps him from almost vibrating from the excitement of seeing Keith one more time. 

It’s true that his new life as a single was not as perfect as he thought it will be without Adam breathing over his neck, but he was getting there —he had a promotion on his job, which, while having more responsibilities, he too had much more control over his hours and how things should be done. He had started going to therapy, and not the therapy Adam made him take because he couldn’t face the facts of his dreams being immature, but because he wanted to start feeling better about himself, to find what was left of him in his incomplete body, now with a broken bond, too. He had taken a like for sweets, sci-fi movies and buying himself flowers, stuff he couldn’t enjoy being with Adam because they were considered things only kids, or _omegas_ , do. 

That’s another thing he hated from Adam, how old-fashioned he was with secondary genders’ dynamics even when that kind of stuff wasn’t like that anymore for almost seven decades. 

So, Shiro considers it. Maybe having someone to actually explain to him what’s happening with his body can help him subdue the effects of a broken bond more than Keith’s ASMR has. He was reluctant to accept at first because he feels like he would be able to overcome it without help. That there’s people out there in the need of the help more than himself. But thinking about it, the mere fact of participating as a subject can help other people, too. 

Also, the possibility of seeing Keith more constantly has his inner alpha pushing him towards accepting. Maybe that way he won’t have to awkwardly visit the coffee shop every day just to have a short conversation with him over his order, which, even when he’s very respectful and self-restrained at his instincts, he just knows he’ll eventually slip and try to watch Keith when he can. 

He shouldn’t be so attracted to someone he just met. He shouldn’t be attracted to someone so young, either. But he’s sure it’s just his alpha being needy. 

He’s till musing over it when the door opens and Keith walks out. 

And Shiro knows —he _knows_ — he acknowledged this morning Keith was the prettiest omega he has ever met, but one thing is seeing him for the first time under unflattering white lights, a stained brown apron and black wild hair, and another entirely different is watching him under the late-afternoon sun, gold highlighting his features, red shirt beneath a leather black jacket and hair barely tamed into a low ponytail, the bangs around his face still framing it like that is the only way it should be.

Shiro’s only response to such a beauty is standing up straight automatically, blushing when Keith’s eyes fall on him and he smiles. 

“Hey,” he says, tilting his head at an empty table for them to seat, “Sorry for making you wait. Lance was- ugh.” 

He doesn’t continue with the explanation, and Shiro realizes a few seconds later that _that_ was the explanation. 

“Oh,” he breathes, taking a seat right after Keith drops down on one of the chairs and trying not to lean over the smoky scent, “Is he still mad at you?” 

“He’s always mad at me,” Keith explains briefly, looking at the sky with his head hanging back on his shoulders, “I don’t even know why anymore, though.” 

Shiro feels his lips curve in a smile, somehow understanding. 

“I have this friend at work,” he starts without prompting, Keith turning his attention to him rather than to the sky, “He is very good at his job and other stuff, but he bickers at me every time he has the opportunity. He’s kind of my best friend.” 

It’s understatement, really. Matt has been his drinking buddy ever since he entered the Garrison as an astronomical engineer, and he quickly became his best friend thanks to their common interests —they both love astronomy, sci-fiction and the idea of being in space— despite their age difference. It’s true that he bickered on him, but mostly because he was annoyed at how Shiro just overworked instead of having some fun. 

He’s kind of the reason he stood up to Adam. Matt being an omega didn’t rub him well, always with the idea that Shiro would cheat on him, which Shiro would never do and actually never did. But Adam controlling his friendships was the drop that broke the dam, and he ended up bringing Adam the divorce papers after he called Matt a slut. 

“Well,” Keith interrupted his thoughts, rolling his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, “I can tell you Lance isn’t my best friend. He’s _barely_ a friend. I just put up with him because it would trouble Coran if suddenly kill him in his coffee shop.” 

Shiro chuckles, softly, and Keith looks at him for a second too long, making him shift. 

“That sounds fun,” he says, because it does. Shiro dreads the moment he stopped having that kind of experiences when he was young, when he had the opportunity to make mistakes and do new attempts, to make friends and fight them, too. He was so afraid of erring he barely took risks, which drove him to settle with friends who he didn’t like and with a partner who controlled his every move. 

“It’s really not,” Keith scoffs, rolling his eyes again, and Shiro then realizes how young he really is. 

Maybe he’s just entering his 20s, learning how the world works around him. How he can change it, too, if what Shiro read about him in his channel was true.

And Shiro feels at loss, because was he really falling blindly in love with a person who has half his age?

Of course, it was just because of the ASMR and his common response to it as an alpha, right? 

… Right? 

“So, if you have been listening to my records, I guess you’re aware of the research?” Keith asks, looking away from him. 

Shiro nods. 

“Okay. I can’t really give much details because it’s my friend’s research, not mine, so, if you’re okay with it, we could go and give her a visit to her lab?” he says with doubt, giving Shiro a glance to check on a reaction, “I could fill you in with what I can share while we walk.” 

“Is it close?” Shiro asks, and Keith nods, standing up. 

“Just a few blocks up north,” Keith says shoving his hands on the pockets of his jacket, hunching over a little, “I go there every day to check in if they need anything, so, yeah, it’s close.” 

Shiro hesitates for a bit, but stands up, smiling at Keith when he keeps watching him. 

“Hm?” 

“You really liked the black tea, huh?” Keith observes quietly, and Shiro goes stiff, his eyes widening and mouth falling open. 

“Uh, what?” 

But Keith looks away, shaking his head while starting to walk away. 

“Anyways,” he says, a little too high, “don’t worry if after hearing Pidge out you don’t want to be part of the research. We respect it if you deny, but it’s better to have a look on the bigger picture before taking a definite decision.” 

And Shiro understands, because outright rejecting without any knowledge was ignorant and stupid. He kind of learned that the hard way, with the crash, his divorce and the break of a bond that is supposed to last a lifetime. 

Internally, he’s more convinced to accept now that he heard that Keith actually goes to the lab every day, but he doesn’t want to listen to that part of him which is just his inner alpha pining.

He doesn’t even know Keith. He’s just longing for the omega who talks to his alpha about dogs, pastries and the sea. 

He’s longing the image he made of Red, not Red himself. As much as Keith is unfairly gorgeous. 

“So, I have a major in Communication,” Keith started when Shiro reaches his pace and walks beside him in the sidewalk, “I’ve been specializing on the communication between secondary genders for two years now, and I’ve been helping in the research even before I got my degree. I just started to make the recordings, though. I guess it’s been almost a year and a half since I uploaded the first one.” 

Shiro knows and feels ashamed that he does. He went through all the ASMR there are on Red’s channel, surprised when the first one was uploaded just a few weeks before Shiro signed the papers and was an officially divorced man. He hasn’t listened to them, though. He feels too bashful to listen to all of them like an obsessive stalker, preferring to listen to the few new ones and repeat the ones he got fond to —‘soothing my alpha to sleep’ is the most constant on his history record, maybe because is the one that helped him get the first 8 hours of well-rest sleep for months of nightmares and insomnia. 

“Pidge, though, has been working on her research for almost 7 years, or that’s what she tells me,” Keith explains, giving Shiro a side glance, “She says she was bothered by having the responsibility to bond even when you don’t want to, so she’s been working on different possibilities ever since she presented as an omega.” 

Shiro hummed, nodding and understanding what he meant by that, but before dwelling into it, he whips around to Keith, shocked. 

“Wait, 7 years? Ever since she presented?” He asks his surprise obvious in his tone and the sparks of citrus in his scent, “That’s-- how old is she?” 

And Keith’s grin is secretive, tucked in one side of his mouth. 

“21,” he says, amused, and at Shiro’s shock, he huffs, averting his gaze “Got her medical degree three years ago and is specialized in all three secondary genders.” 

Shiro gapes at that, remembering pitifully his five years spent on Aeronautical Engineering before even getting into the pilots’ program. Most people would have to spend nearly a decade to finish the medical career. Adding the time spent on internships and specializing, it’s, at most, 15 years of meticulous study and hard work, and that is if you don’t fail any semester. 

“She’s a prodigy,” Keith sorts out for Shiro, his mouth twisted to fight a smirk, “But don’t let her intelligence intimidate you. She still plays with clay, only eats dinosaur-shaped nuggets and gets annoyed if you as much breath in the direction of her fries." 

Shiro huffs, almost like a laugh, and nods, fidgeting with the folds of polymer he has as joints in his prosthesis’ fingers. 

“She sounds fantastic.” 

Keith snorts. 

“She is,” he agrees rolling his eyes, and Shiro notices how different the action is from how he does to Lance, his co-worker. Keith is fond to Pidge, and it softens something inside Shiro, “But don’t let her hear you or we’ll never hear the end of it.” 

And that strangely enough reminds him of Matt, how he straightens and tips his chin up, not unlike a peacock, every time Shiro praises his inventions and ideas, his already big ego bloating up. 

“Okay,” Shiro smiles, watching Keith rush a few steps to the front door of an elegant gray building, opening it and turning to him with a gesture of his hand and a grin. 

“Come on.” 

And Shiro stops himself from letting out hormones, keeping to himself the thoughts of ‘Maybe, just maybe...’ that flood his mind and thrills his inner alpha. 

The insides aren’t what Shiro thought when he saw the slicked, almost futuristic, front. It’s not different from a hospital, which Shiro thinks it’s obvious, but it doesn’t give him the same anxiety he feels when going to his monthly check-ups. 

The smell isn’t sterile and neutral, having some hints of the different alphas and omegas inside the doors he can see at the back, behind the reception. There’s only a couple of persons in the waiting room on the side, but Keith pays no mind to them, walking up directly to the hallway, just giving a glance to the blonde girl painting her nails in the reception desk. 

“You shouldn’t be doing that here, Romelle,” he says, voice soft and enough to make Shiro rumble very low. 

The girl, though, smiles widely at him and leans her chin on her propped hands, fingers apart from each other to avoid messing up the pink polish. 

“Keith! How are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he says, just stopping to turn to Shiro and gesture him to follow, which Shiro does tripping a bit to hurry, “Tell me Pidge is in.” 

“Is him another possible subject?” she asks, and Shiro feels her eye him thoroughly, “It’s the second this week.” 

“Is Pidge in?” Keith insists, spinning on his heel to walk backwards and still talk to her face to face. 

“Don’t let him deceive you, alpha!” she jokes with a grin, leaning over the counter to yell through the hallway, “He’s not as grumpy as he looks!” 

Shiro lets out a low laugh at that, and it only draws out at Keith’s grumble and sudden furious blush. 

“Whatever, I’ll find out myself.” 

“She’s lovely,” Shiro comments when the double doors close behind them, her giggles echoing in the hall getting cut off with the lock clicking. 

“She’s a menace,” Keith hisses, hiding his flushed face beneath his black bangs. Shiro wishes he could brush them away, “Couldn’t even answer if Pidge was in, gods...” 

Shiro chuckles and Keith gives him a low-key glare that smooths out too quick, and Shiro finds himself admiring him quietly while they walk. The building, while one-story, is bigger than Shiro had thought at first, and is about to comment on it when a door opens a few feet away, a small girl in a white lab coat coming out of it muttering under her breath. 

“Oh, Pidge,” Keith calls, walking up to her. 

But Shiro pauses in the middle of the hallway, watching the girl turn to them with a frown and a pout that makes her look even younger, and her brownish short hair, big eyes the same color behind huge circular glasses, and faint freckles over her wrinkled nose make Shiro have something close to a mental breakdown. 

“Matt?” 

The girl’s frown gets deeper, snapping her attention to him, and Keith is left aside when she stomps up to him and has him stepping back despite her size. She’s so _tiny_ her head barely reaches his sternum, maybe the lowest of his ribs, and yet Shiro feels she could trample him when she shoves a finger to his chest, poking him threateningly. 

“Don’t you _dare_ mistaking me with my brother,” she hisses, _growls_ , “Ever, you hear me?” 

Shiro breathes out a shakily, frozen in place at the bitter-salt tangs on her scent, and instead of apologizing, like he had to in the first place, he whispers: 

“You’re Matt’s sister? Katie?” 

She narrows her eyes, scanning him, and then pulls her shoving finger away from Shiro’s chest. 

“Wait,” she says, bringing her hand to her temple, her frown now thoughtful instead of annoyed, “Are you Shiro?” 

Shiro sighs, nodding and she arches an eyebrow, the angry scent smoothing out to a curious one. 

And now, connecting the dots, Shiro understands how she’s as brilliant as Keith has told him. 

The world is, apparently, very small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!
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> ~
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> Come and yell with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ulqueleh)!


	4. Like a lid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay,” she said, quietly, Shiro blushing even more if possible, “I want to ask, Shiro, but you don’t have to respond if you’re not comfortable with it.”
> 
> Shiro _dreads_.
> 
> “Have you had any sex since your bond broke?”
> 
> Shiro hears Keith stumble on his seat, suddenly attentive.

Shiro is smart. 

He was top student on middle school and high school, even being valedictorian in his graduation. His parents are still proud of his outstanding grades. The thing is that, while Shiro was a real nerd about stuff he liked like physics and astronomy, he had to study very hard to get approving grades for classes he didn't really like. 

Still, everyone said he was smart. Even intelligent. 

Now? 

Now Shiro felt very stupid, trying and failing to process every word falling from Pidge’s rambling mouth while explaining her research thoroughly over coffee and juice —Shiro is the one who asked for juice, much to Pidge’s confusion and Keith’s amusement. 

He understood the basics of secondary genders, mostly the things they teach you in middle school. But there was terminology Pidge said with practiced ease that flew completely over his head. Shiro has to admit that, when she started talking about the changes in society’s perception about omegas and alphas, he thought he would be alright in following the conversation. But the moment she started on the components of hormones Shiro was totally lost. 

It reminds him a lot of her brother, Matt, and of her father, Samuel Holt. Those two have always been so passionate on what they want to accomplish, throwing concepts and terminology at Shiro as if he could understand what they were talking about. He can see how the Holt genes have reached Pidge thoroughly, how she’s as hungry for knowledge as all the Holts he has met. Only Coleen Holt was more controlled and easier to follow, but he’s sure that if Shiro mentioned trying to grow a cactus, she would ramble about plants the same way Pidge is doing about secondary genders. It’s just about common interests. 

He tried to follow, despite that, nodding every now and then and not sipping on his orange juice because that would distract him. Shiro even tried not to glance at Keith on the other side of the desk, tapping on his phone while gulping down black coffee so easily Shiro had to stop himself from wincing every time, but Keith’s presence was very distracting Shiro found himself sneaking up side glances when Pidge turned to her laptop to type quickly while still blurting out words that would be too difficult for Shiro to replicate. 

Then, at one of those stolen glances, Shiro almost dropped the juice all over himself when Keith was already looking at him, smile carefully hidden from Pidge with his red cup of coffee, almost as if he knew Shiro was looking at him from most of the half hour instead of listening — _and_ understanding— what Pidge was rambling about. 

Shiro felt his face heat, whipping around to instead stare at the stickers in the top of Pidge’s laptop, her typing stopping for a bit. 

“Oh, Shiro,” she said suddenly, having him perking up more embarrassed at being caught blushing because of Keith, “don’t get shy. We’re all adults here and know enough about sex.” 

_That_ made Shiro’s brain try to get a grasp of the one-sided conversation he was being part of, vaguely recalling the words ‘rut’ and ‘heat’ along the lines of ‘bond marks’ and ‘new partners. 

“What,” he blurted out, and Pidge narrowed her eyes, briefly going to Keith now happily playing a game on his phone, if Shiro is right and those ‘ping’ sounds are anything to go by. 

“Okay,” she said, quietly, Shiro blushing even more if possible, “I want to ask, Shiro, but you don’t have to respond if you’re not comfortable with it.” 

Shiro _dreads_. 

“Have you had any sex since your bond broke?” 

Shiro hears Keith stumble on his seat, abruptly paying attention. 

And, well, as much as Shiro has been courted and flirted by omegas and betas, even alphas, which kind of surprised him, all the same ever since the divorce was rumored at work, he really hasn’t thought on having a fling or a new serious relationship. 

It has been years since Shiro was single, having dated Adam for 7 years before proposing and being married to him for other 8 years. That makes 15 years of only having one sexual partner —if Shiro doesn’t count that one time he got a blowjob from some dude he liked on his senior year, Adam was the _only_ sexual partner he has ever had. 

And, while, yeah, Shiro felt very free when he signed the divorce papers, it wasn’t a sexual freedom, because it implicated emotional and psychological freedom all the same and he was more focused on that rather on sharing a bed with someone who had a crush on him or with some stranger. He hardly thought about his sexual needs and he mostly dismissed them because he wasn’t that interested in having intercourse. 

He still isn’t, and he’s not exactly ashamed of that. But having the question directly made to him by a 21-year-old with someone else in the room that Shiro _may_ be developing a crush on has him almost fainting at how red his face feels. 

Shiro mouths a bit, no word coming out, and Pidge arches an eyebrow, much to his mortification. 

“ _Oh_ ,” she says, something similar to a grin starting to curve her lips, and Shiro sputters, “How much time has passed since you broke your bond?” 

“Year and a half,” he croaks, looking down and away from where Keith still staring at them. Shiro can’t really see his face, but he can sense and smell his shock. 

“And since you had intercourse?” Pidge insists, typing away what Shiro answered, maybe, and he’s _mortified_. 

“I-” 

“Pidge.” 

Shiro tenses at Keith’s voice, soft but firm, and notices how she does the same, snatching her hand away from her laptop. 

“Oh,” she says, blinking at Keith and then at Shiro, “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s the common questions I do to our subjects to know more about their situations and I got a little too carried away. I shouldn’t have pried like that, sorry.” 

And, to her credit, she looks genuinely apologetic, a little pink over the crest of her cheeks and over her nose. 

“It’s fine,” Shiro says, smiling, but he knows he sounds wobbly, “I’m just- I was surprised.” 

Pidge nods, looking down to her laptop screen and decidedly hitting the backspace, anything that she could’ve written about him, and Shiro feels how Keith eases down on his seat, sighing. 

“I’ll go get more coffee,” Keith says suddenly, standing up and carefully avoiding to look at Shiro when saying, “I’ll wait for you outside, ‘kay?” 

Shiro swallows, nodding, and the silent click of the door closing behind Keith is what makes him let out a contained sigh. Keith might have noticed how distressed he was feeling, his scent buzzing with anxiousness, and decided to give them some space. 

He knows Pidge is watching him, but doesn’t say anything about how his scent eases a bit. 

“Shiro,” she calls softly, closing her laptop to give him her unwavering attention, “Let me be frank with you.” 

He gazes her for a second, sensing her seriousness, and tries to calm down his agitated hormones. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, and she adjusts her glasses on the tip of her nose. 

“I really think you should join the research.” 

Shiro expected as much. 

“Why?” he asks, averting his eyes, and Pidge reaches for a green glob of clay, starting to mold it. 

“I know you’ve noticed by now, but your scent and hormones are kind of out of control,” she points out, and Shiro closes his eyes, “I mean, it’s normal not having a total control over them because it’s part of our instincts to spread them, to communicate with them. Nonetheless, the way yours spread is... concerning.” 

His chest feels tight, and he tries to take a breath. 

“How come?” Shiro asks, looking to her, and her hand mushing the clay stops. 

“Matt told me when your bond with your ex broke,” Pidge changed the subject, or maybe she didn’t, “But he has been worried about you ever since you met. He says it’s because you always smell like you’re restrained, like you don’t have a say in how you feel.” 

Shiro blinks, frowning. 

“I figured it was because your bonded partner tried to control you, and somehow did, actually, because, yeah, Matt could smell when you were happy or stressed or even calm, but so subtle it was almost imperceptible.” Her fingers work on the clay for a bit, making a few edges and corners. “Most people don’t know it, but the bond is more than just a tie to someone. It’s about sharing and fitting with each other, even knowing what the other is feeling without any words or actions.” 

Shiro watches her mold the clay into a triangle, then into a cube, then into something he doesn’t quite know the name of but identifies has too many sides and edges. 

“Subconsciously,” she continues, tilting her head to a side and sniffing, “we know this. So, when there’s something you don’t want to share with your bonded partner, you hide it. In your case, I think, it was most of your feelings that were hidden. You didn’t want them to recognize how you really felt —about yourself or them or anybody, really—, so you automatically hid it and kept it inside.” 

And, well, that’s too accurate for his comfort. It makes too much sense and he doesn’t know why he didn’t figure it out before —how repressed he felt with Adam, how he watched him closely and Shiro had to pretend everything was alright when nothing was. Shiro always wanted to be the perfect mate for him, to be as collected as Adam was, to not show how fucked up their relationship was, even to Adam himself. 

And that is...

Terrifying.

“That’s why,” Pidge suddenly cut through his swirling thoughts, now smoothing out the lines and making a green sphere, “after you broke-bonded that your scent and hormones have been out of control. The bond was like a lid to you, and with it gone, you’ve been overflowing. Have you noticed more attention to yourself by potential new partners?” 

Shiro has to shake his head to actually answer. 

“I- Yeah, but they didn’t start then.” He remembers he had been flirted with even before the real problems with Adam started. Years before, even. “It just-” 

“Did it increase?” she asks, her brow burrowed on deep thought, now molding the clay to something Shiro can’t really pay attention to. 

“It- Yes, how-” 

“Your scent gave it away,” Pidge states, looking at Shiro over the rim of her glasses, “Your hormones were free to spread and they did, alerting the people around you. And excuse me if this is too forward, but have you been having trouble suppressing them? Like.” Her eyes go briefly over the closed door, Keith’s implication very obvious, “When you feel attracted to someone?” 

What happened on the coffee shop strikes Shiro’s mind, then the way his scent seems to be stronger in his own apartment after listening to Red’s ASMRs. Lingering. Looming over him. Waiting for him to do something about it. 

“Shiro.” 

He springs up, startled, and Pidge is watching him, her nose wrinkled. 

“Calm down,” she requests. 

That’s when he catches the bitter-salt scent coming off from himself. How it sticks and repels every calming and neutral hormone Pidge is sending for him to reach. 

He tries. To take it and let it wash over him. For it to relax him as it should. But there’s something off with the fresh-cut-grass from her smell, the soft and wet scent of rain about to fall. He doesn’t want it, Shiro realizes, longing over the smoky spice of Keith’s, over the fiery smell of fire burning and chili peppers dried on the sun. Of Keith himself. 

There’s a revelation on Pidge’s wide eyes when he turns back his gaze to her. A revelation he doesn’t want to look into. 

“I...” he breathes, shaking his head, “This isn’t- I shouldn’t...” 

Pidge stays silent for a bit, Shiro’s hands trembling on his lap, and he feels the constant ache on his neck of something that isn’t there anymore, of something his inner alpha craves for too much. He doesn’t notice how Pidge’s eyes narrow when she drops the green clay and stands up, Shiro startling at the sound of her chair scraping against the floor. He follows her figure crouch beside her desk, opening a mini fridge she was propped below a bookshelf. 

“Water?” she asks softly, almost carefully, and Shiro feels pity for himself, not knowing how to answer, “I’ll have water.” 

She turns, handing a little bottle to him, and Shiro is shocked by how he downs it in two gulps, gasping when he pulls the empty bottle away from his lips. Pidge’s brows go up and behind her fringe, and hands the bottle meant for herself for Shiro to drink it almost as desperate as the first. When Shiro reaches the bottom, now at a more normal pace, he looks up to Pidge, finding her frowning in concern. 

“Shiro?” she asks, and he takes a steading breath, “Does... does that happen a lot?” 

He twists his mouth, looking away, and nods. 

Panic attacks haven’t been as common as they were three months ago. They stopped being so constant ever since he started listening to Red’s ASMR. They always lurked in the back of his mind before, waiting for a mistake for him to make to just jump on him. 

His therapist is proud he started having a hang on how to stop them before they escalate to something he can’t manage, but Shiro doesn’t like that he has to know how to handle them. Not so many years after the accident. Not more than a year after divorcing Adam. Not... 

“Shiro.” 

Shiro looks up, Pidge now with another two bottles of water, one of them being handed to him. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, mouth dry despite the water he just drank a minute before, “I'm sorry, I-” 

“Don’t be,” Pidge interrupts, making him flinch, “Just... I want to help you, Shiro. And neglecting yourself like this is going to bring even worse problems.” 

He nods, understanding. Because it’s true —he needs something else to appease his inner alpha and broken bond other than Keith’s recordings. 

But he’s just- He's just so _scared_. 

“I don’t know...” 

“You don’t have to answer right now,” Pidge murmurs, Shiro’s eyes fixed on the unopened water bottle, “but having a controlled space where you can let out your hormones and scent will help you. And we can find a quicker solution if you could help us, too.” 

And the way she says it as if Shiro is the one bringing the help is what makes his shoulders ease down the tense muscles. Of course, he would be the one being helped, but by that he would be helping other people, too. He’s certain there’s a lot of people out there, omegas and alphas alike, that don’t want to be prisoners of a bond that didn’t last or that it wasn’t given, just as much as he doesn’t want to be held down by the empty space Adam left. 

“I...” 

“Think about it, okay?” Pidge says, and Shiro nods, “Okay. Do you want some fresh air?” 

Shiro nods again and stands up, following Pidge’s tinier frame to the door. The hallway is empty, Keith-less, to Shiro’s disappointment, and Pidge arches a brow when he lingers at her door. Surprisingly, he’s not just brought to the hallway, Pidge walking all the way over the reception and waving reluctantly at the blonde omega on the desk, who waves at both of them effusively. 

“Bye, bye, Shiro!” she yells, somehow knowing his name —maybe Keith talked about him, his inner alpha sighs— and almost toppling over the counter and over a girl’s shoulder that was talking to her, “I’m Romelle! Nice to meet you!” 

Shiro chuckles, waving back, and hears Pidge mutter an exasperated ‘god, she has too much energy,’ under her breath, which makes him laugh more. 

“She’s cute,” Shiro justifies while stepping out of the building, Pidge bouncing down the couple of stairs on the balls of her feet. 

“Maybe too cute,” she grumbles and Shiro catches a little biting scent from her. 

He doesn’t quite think about it too much, his breath hitching when he finds Keith leaned against a tree, a few feet away from the entrance. He’s still on his phone, lit cigarette between his lips, and he looks up to them through his lashes when the door opened. Shiro stares, too drawn by the image of him outlined by the sun setting down the street, and doesn’t realize he’s still standing awkwardly in the way when the door swings back and hits him in the shoulder. 

He hisses, stepping out of the away for the door to close completely and rubs his left shoulder, pouting when Pidge snorts nose-ly at him, Keith too distracted putting out the cigarette in the ashtray beside the tree. 

“Hey,” Keith regards walking to them, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket, “How are you feeling?” 

And Shiro, the idiot, doesn’t answer right away, instead letting Keith’s voice sooth him. 

“You say that as if I made him something terrible,” Pidge accuses, and Keith rolls his eyes. 

“Knowing what you did to Lance the other day I might even bring Shiro to the hospital to make sure he’s alright.” 

“Lance DESERVED that, okay?” she snaps, “He wasn’t keeping still!” 

And, well, Shiro is curious, but really doesn’t know if it’s better to keep being ignorant. 

“I’m fine,” he assures, smiling at Keith, “Just a little overwhelmed.” 

Keith hums, nodding. 

“Yeah, I get it,” he says, half-smirk on his lips, “Pidge sometimes it’s too much.” 

Now is Pidge who rolls her eyes. 

“Well, maybe if you were all familiar with the implications of secondary genders, I wouldn’t have to do all that explaining.” 

“No one knows _that_ much about secondary genders,” Keith counteracts, and she throws her hands above her head. 

“And _that_ is the freaking problem!” 

Shiro huffs, quietly agreeing, and finds Keith glancing at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Don’t take her side,” Keith accuses suddenly, and Shiro startles. 

“What? I wasn’t-” 

“You were,” he states, and Shiro can’t really object, because he's aware his scent will give it away.

“Because I’m right,” Pidge says, her chin up in pride, and Keith rolls his eyes at her, too fond to be honestly annoyed. 

“Whatever,” Keith mumbles and then turns his attention to Shiro, looking up to him and making Shiro abruptly aware of the distance between them, “Were you convinced?” 

Pidge mutters something that Shiro doesn’t quite hear because of how focused he is looking at Keith, and witnesses delightfully how he blushes, turning and glaring at Pidge. 

“What the- I didn’t-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she teases, and Shiro is suddenly interested in what she said. 

“What?” he asks, and Keith shakes his head, Pidge snickering. 

“Just-” Keith says, shrugging dismissive, and gives Shiro a flickering glance, almost shy, “Just sleep on it and think about it, yeah?” 

Shiro stares at him, musing that there’s not much to think about. 

“Yeah.” 


	5. Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's inexplicably more devastating now than before. But it must be because Shiro hasn't seen him for three days after seeing him twice that first time, and now he just _needs_ to be with him. Shiro needs to be with his omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I took a lot of time to edit this one because my schoolwork suddenly became much more than I thought it would be.
> 
> I have another chapter in the drafts but I'll have to pause the updates for a bit since I'm not finished with my semester and I still have the Sheith Party prompt to write (I have 1.3 k ready but it's not even half of the story fsdhsdfs)
> 
> Thank you so mucch for your comments, I'm so happy you're liking this story so far and I hope you like the rest of it! Remember you can find early updates on Twitter!!

Shiro is patient. 

He had grown up living with his grandparents’ motto ‘Patience yields focus’ and now it's almost like a second nature to repeat it to himself when he’s feeling impatient. It had helped him through middle school and high school when he didn’t understand the basics of some of the classes he didn’t like. It had helped him through his career as a pilot and through his retirement after the accident. It had helped him to keep his cool when Adam and him had fights and to calm down when some comment from Adam crisped his anger. 

Matt has told him his patience is a weakness as much as is a strength, because while he has the cooler head and is the bigger man in most of the conflicts at work and in his personal life, it causes him lots of stress when the other side of the conflict is illogically stubborn. Shiro knows he’s right, because sometimes people are obstinate without given reason, and Shiro is the one who tries to talk them down and fails spectacularly. Or when people have too many reasons to be opposed to Shiro’s decision that he just gives in and regrets it all the way to the end of the project —Slav, for example, gives him one thousand and one reasons why Shiro should be wearing a tie of a certain color and pattern instead of helping him decide if one motor design is better than another, specifying that whatever Shiro chooses is alright only if Shiro is wearing the correct tie. Shiro now has too many ties and hates each one of them. 

Still, it’s better to wait. It’s better to see how things go instead of making a rushed decision. 

That’s how Shiro decides to wait. He gives himself a few days of contemplation. Just a few days of routine and keeping the research stuff on the back of his head for him to review later. He may not need to think about what to answer, already aware he’s going to agree when he contacts Pidge and his words practiced in his head a little bit more than necessary. 

Still, he waits. Just for the sake of it. Just to convince himself it’s his own rational decision and not his inner alpha pushing him to try to get closer to Keith. Shiro has never liked having those instincts. Most of them are used to excuse what’s inexcusable because people still think their secondary gender determine what they do and say in their life, which really talks about the type of person they are behind keeping appearances. 

Shiro isn’t like that. He has tried to fight against his instincts for most of his life, even when now it’s been a little complicated due to the broken-bond. Still, when he does lose against his inner alpha, he’s quick to apologize as it should be if he made a completely rational mistake. He doesn’t use his instincts as an alpha as a leverage to justify his actions. 

So, he waits. Just a couple of days to let himself cool down. He goes to work, has lunch, goes straight home at the end of the day. He tries not to stare at his phone screen so much at night, when the memory of Red’s black thumbnail and his voice coming out of the speakers haunts him. 

He had avoided listening to them for a while, trying to have his alpha instincts controlled by mere willpower and not wanting them to control him back and bother him to agree to Pidge’s request so quickly. And at first it had worked, he had fallen asleep easily as if he was listening to the soft-toned voice Keith uses in the recordings. But now, three days after talking to Pidge and having met Keith in person, he’s impossibly restless. 

His neck aches and his inner alpha whines at the lack of the omega he has been having contact with. Shiro hates it, and he knows, after staring at his ceiling till 3 a.m. with the constant buzz of _something is missing_ , he decides he can’t keep extending that wait. He texts Pidge after shifting and turning too many times in his bed and is shocked when Pidge reads it and starts typing right away, even when it’s almost 4 a.m. 

‘Come to the lab when you’re free today,’ she had asked, ‘I’ll need to make you some questions and some quick tests.’ 

So now, at quarter past 9 in the morning, he has taken seat in the waiting room in the majorly empty lab. He knows it’s Saturday and maybe most of the people working in the lab are not in today because of the weekend. 

He was kind of disappointed to find out Romelle isn’t in the desk today, in her place a dark-haired alpha is seating at the reception today, her eyes giving him a shiver when he went to ask for Pidge. He recognizes for the other girl that was talking to Romelle those 3 days ago, and Shiro isn’t one to judge by appearances, her black lipstick and eye shadow not bothering him, but she has been sending glares his way every now and then after Shiro went to seat, and it makes him fidget with his fingers at the thought of being hated by someone he doesn’t even know. 

He shouldn’t feel so affected by it, though. He has lived most of his life worried about what people think of him and now he knows it shouldn’t matter. But somehow her blue eyes watching his every move make him feel very judged. 

And it’s weird, because her scent, similar to the smell of winter coming and sweetened ice, is not bitter or salty in disgust. 

“Here.” 

He flinches, looking up at the alpha now standing in front of him, handing him some juice. He frowns at it, taken aback, and reaches for it slowly. 

“Uh, thank you?” he says, wincing when it comes out as a question, but she just nods, her scent suddenly going soft. 

And she walks away, just like that, leaving Shiro with a glass of the same orange juice he had the first time he was here. She doesn’t glare at him again once she’s back at her seat in the reception desk, instead going through papers and typing in the computer, and Shiro stares at her for a bit, feeling very confused of what just happened. 

He doesn’t have much time to think about it, though, because half a minute later the double doors from the hallway open and a young woman with her platinum hair in a bun over her head walks out with a pad. She must be the same age as Keith, the color of her hair only a bit deceiving at how smooth and bright her skin looks. There’s something in her blue eyes, though, that make her seem mature, as if her experience was as much as Shiro’s at her short age. 

“Mr. Shirogane?” she asks him with a smile, stopping beside the reception desk, and Shiro nods, standing up and almost spilling the juice all over the floor because he forgot he had it. 

“Shiro it’s fine,” he says approaching her, and her smile gets brighter, her alpha scent going warm and sweet like hot chocolate and berries, “‘Mr. Shirogane’ makes me feel old.” 

She laughs, softly, and Shiro tries not to blush at his ridiculous joke and how it worked. 

“I’m Allura,” she introduces herself, “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Keith has talked non-stop about you!” 

He freezes just before taking her offered hand, his flesh hand squeezing the glass full of juice to the point of hearing it cracks a bit. 

“Keith did?” 

Allura glances the glass and smiles despite it, shaking his hand without mentioning it. 

“I mean, Keith isn’t the one to talk a lot in first place, so he hasn’t really talked a _lot_ , but he has mentioned you a couple of times during the week and that is a lot for Keith, if you ask me,” she explains with a little laugh, “He was very worried you haven’t contacted Pidge or him during the week. He thought maybe you wouldn’t accept.” 

Shiro blinks, still too shocked. And while maybe Keith is just worried about him not having the appropriate help he needs, learning Keith has talked about him makes his inner alpha yip in happiness. He catches how Allura widens her eyes, the other alpha at the desk flinching and watching him closely, too, maybe because his scent has gone a bit sweet, almost eager, and he clears his throat. 

“Oh,” he breathes, letting go of her hand and looking down at the juice, “okay.” 

She smiles, gesturing him to follow, and they walk through the doors, Shiro feeling his blush reaches the point of his ears. 

“I’ll be doing the initial tests and interviews to get to know about your situation better, alright?” she starts, tapping out something on the pad, and Shiro almost stops walking, hurrying behind her to not let her notice his concern. 

“I-” he tries, and takes a big gulp of juice before trying again, “I thought Pidge does that.” 

He doesn’t like the idea of giving information in the first place and he thought he would be more comfortable talking to Pidge about it. Having to talk to someone else about his situation makes him uneasy. 

“She normally does,” Allura explains, giving him a reassured smile, “But right now she’s kind of busy with someone, so I’ll be doing them. If you’re not comfortable, I could ask Keith to help, though. He can’t run the blood tests because he isn’t certified, but he can do the interview if you would like?” 

Shiro chokes on orange juice, and he shakes his head a little to wildly, his face too hot. If having Pidge asking about intercourse had him nervous, thinking about Keith asking makes him hot around the collar, mortified. 

“I-I- No, it’s- It’s fine, t-thank you,” he stutters, covering the lower half of his face with his prosthetic, fearing the glass would actually break in its hold. 

And he’s shocked when Allura gives him a grin over her shoulder, as if making Shiro sweat and blush was her objective from the very beginning. 

He’s not sure how he did it, but a few minutes later he was in what he thinks is Allura’s office, a new glass filled with juice in his prosthesis while his other arm was folded to keep the alcohol-soaked cotton in the inside of his elbow. He sipped little by little, still too stunned to follow with his eyes how Allura comes and goes from one side to another gathering material. 

“So,” she says, gracefully seating down in front of him and giving him a smile, “while the tests are ready, lets fill out these, shall we?” 

He watches with dread the forms in her hands and stiffly nods. 

“You may not worry, Shiro, every information gathered here is confidential and for the sole use on the research, okay?” 

She’s professional, he’ll give her that, and she’s friendly. Shiro is sure he would become friends with her easily if it wasn’t for this situation in particular. Still, when he nods, he has to force himself to relax the grasp on the glass of juice before crashing it. It doesn’t work and has to put the glass down. 

“Okay.” 

She smiles, but Shiro senses how she tries to calm him with the spread of her hormones, chocolate fused with soft rose water. And, somehow, it troubles him even more that an alpha is trying to calm him down. 

“How old are you?” 

Okay, that’s easy. 

“41,” he murmurs, keeping himself from joking he had his 10th birthday last year. The joke might come in handy if Allura asks his birthday. 

“At what age did you bond?” 

Shiro freezes, surprised that she’s already asking about it, having to take a breath. But of course she would, the research is about that. 

“Uh.” He frowns, “33, I think.” 

Allura nods, writing down. 

“And when did your bond break?” 

He flinches, even when her voice and tone are soft and tactful. He knows that kind of question was going to be made, but thinking about how difficult the process to accept it was makes him grim. 

“Year and a half ago,” he answers, looking down to his orange juice, “By my request.” 

Allura gives him a fleeting glance, going back to her notes quick enough to not make him too self-conscious, which he’s grateful for. 

“How long were you with your partner before bonding?” 

“7 years,” he murmurs, remembering bitterly how it came to it. 

They have been married for a year and Adam had been pestering to bond ever since the ceremony. In obnoxious, not-so-subtle ways, like commenting his sister’s bonding to her husband in their wedding night, or how he loved seeing bonded pairs walking down the street. Or how he yearned for that kind of connection even when he knew it wouldn’t work for them the same way. 

He was pressuring Shiro, the same way he was being pressured by his family, by his so-called friends. And Shiro ended up bending down to every request, because he could see how tired he was of saying it, of being pushed down by his loved ones. He bended down the same way he bended down to marry him, the same way he did to start dating him. 

They were such a mess. 

“Was it a mutual bond?” Allura asked, and Shiro really wondered. 

“Yes.” 

“When was the last time you had intercourse?” 

He took a deep breath and a gulp from the juice, emptying the glass. 

“A while,” he muttered, trying not to blush. 

“Do you have an approximate time or-” 

“I don’t really know.” He closed his eyes, trying to keep his composure. He didn’t like thinking about it, “We stopped touching each other three years after the wedding, so I really don’t know.” 

Allura stayed silent, not even writing down his answer, and he sighed. 

“It’s doesn’t even bother me that much,” he attempted to explain, “I just...” 

He trailed off, really not knowing how to say it. 

“You were in need of comfort.” 

Shiro looked up, Allura putting down the forms not even halfway done, but Shiro was grateful for the breather. 

“I understand how not all of the people are interested in sex per se,” she explained, reaching for her flask full of fresh tea and taking a sip, “But for bonded partners is complicated to not share those experiences because the bond nurtures from our connection.” 

She settled down the flask, shifting in her seat, and somehow that makes Shiro feel more relaxed, as if they are talking as friends and as if merely a minute ago she wasn’t making uncomfortable questions for a research Shiro just agreed to be into. And it’s weird, because she keeps her professional stance. 

“It’s complicated, but what may be bothering you it’s not the lack of sex. It’s more about the closeness and intimacy the act itself creates.” 

Shiro raised his brow, making sense of what she was saying. It’s true that him and Adam stopped having sex three years into their marriage, but it was too about how Adam avoided touching him, how he stopped brushing Shiro’s hair away from his eyes, how he kept himself from grabbing Shiro’s hand while walking down the street, how slowly they stopped kissing entirely, not even for good night. 

Shiro was touch-starved. And probably Adam, too, because of him. 

“Either way, there’s nothing wrong on not being interested in having intercourse,” Allura said, shrugging too elegantly to be just a casual shrug, “Don’t worry.” 

Shiro nodded, feeling a bit more relaxed. Allura might be a stranger, but the way she talked was as they were friends Maybe having this kind of conversation with an almost stranger was better than having it with his best friend’s younger sister or may-be-crush. 

“Now,” Allura said, grabbing the forms and smiling at him, “When was the last time you had an orgasm?” 

Okay, maybe not. 

It’s too fatiguing to think after the interview finishes. He knows it’s more emotional exhaustion than any other thing, because the need to go and wrap himself in blankets while listening to his favorite ASMR from Red is strong. 

He doesn’t know how, but he’s following Allura out of her office after she asks if he wants more juice and mentions something about a place where he can rest before heading home. At least Allura is aware of how overwhelming she can be when asking about details and explaining how things work with bonds and psychological connections, very unlike Pidge, who just keeps rambling until she’s interrupted. 

His feet drag on each step, while Allura almost floats through the hallway, noticeably unaffected by the literal hell Shiro has been through with all those questions. He doesn’t even recall most of them, giving an automatic response each time his brain burned out. 

They arrive to a room that has a very different ambiance to the rest of the lab. It’s almost domestic, like little apartment lodged in the building, and Shiro’s sight almost immediately stops in a too familiar long black hair, Keith smashing buttons on a remote controller from a game Shiro doesn't know about. He’s not the only one in the room, other people at the table and in the little kitchenette, but Shiro doesn't pay them mind, too drawn to Keith’s sole presence. He’s kind of recognizes the freshly-fallen-rain scent and the salty sea smell from the other people in the room, but they’re all muted down by Keith’s slight smokey scent, with sweet pangs of pumpkin spice and chili peppers and the sun itself 

It’s, inexplicably, more devastating now than before. But it must be because Shiro hasn’t seen him for three days after seeing him twice that first time, and now he just _needs_ to be with him. Shiro needs to be with his omega. 

“Oh,” he hears faintly from Allura beside him, and he’s vaguely aware of how the chattering in the room dies down. 

A second ticks in and Keith looks away from the tv screen, his character dying down with a pity sound, and he startles up with a jump from the couch he was lounging on, visibly surprised by Shiro’s sudden presence. 

“Shiro,” he breathes, the controller now forgotten hanging from his side, “Hi.” 

And Shiro is endeared, how stunned Keith looks. How beautiful he is. Shiro wished he could make him look like that often enough. Shiro wished he could make him smile. 

“Hey.” 

Keith stays silent, giving a glance to the kitchenette, and Shiro hears how someone coughs, the conversation coming back reluctantly. 

“How did it go?” Keith asks approaching, and Shiro glances over where Allura is beside him. 

“I-” 

Well, where she _was_ , at least. 

“What,” he blurts out, turning his head to search in the room, finding her walking over Pidge in one of the stools. 

Shiro didn’t know Pidge was in the room, neither Lance, who throws a narrowed look over to him before turning to Allura and beam at her. Shiro shudders, bewildered at how easily he changes. There’s another person cooking diligently that Shiro doesn’t know, but the lack of scent lets him know he’s a beta. 

“Too out of it, huh?” Keith says, crossing his arms over his chest, shrugging, “Allura tends to cause that on people. Or, well, at least when it’s research stuff.” 

Shiro sighs, still distressed and incredibly tired from the interview, and Keith gives him an attentive look. 

“You haven’t been listening to my ASMR, have you?” 

And, okay, how does he do that?” 

“I-” Shiro coughs, “I tried not to be biased.” 

He resists the actual need to slap a palm to his forehead because of his slip up, instead mentally hitting himself. He really is stupid when it comes to Keith. Or overly honest, which he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse. 

“Oh,” Keith exhales, eyebrows up behind his fringe, “that’s...” 

And Shiro fears that was too much. Really, he and his big stupid mouth. 

“Thank you.” 

Shiro has to double-take. 

“What.” 

“Thank you,” Keith repeats, now looking away and pulling some of his hair behind his ear, his very _pierced_ ear. Oh, god, how did Shiro missed that before, “For taking your time thinking about it. It must’ve been difficult.” 

And Shiro just- Shiro can’t believe it. 

“I- not really,” he tries, but the quick glance Keith gives him lets him know he’s not fooling anyone. Much less Keith, “I mean, maybe? I just-” 

“It’s fine, Shiro,” Keith assures, and Shiro’s teeth clicks when he closes his mouth, “You’ve been listening to them for a while now and suddenly keeping yourself from them could’ve troubled you a lot. It’s fine if you weren’t completely fine.” 

Relief relaxes his muscles, still tense from the interview with Allura, and he sighs. 

“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, too easily at Keith’s small smile. 

Yeah, he loves making Keith smile. 

“Actually,” Keith mutters, more to himself, “I appreciate it, cause last time-” 

He cuts himself off, shaking his head, and gives Shiro a smile that has him forgetting about what he was saying. 

“Do you wanna hang out?” Keith asks instead, gesturing to the group, “I’ll introduce you to the team.” 

And Shiro is sharply reminded that they’re not alone in the room. 

“Oh.” He looks to the kitchenette, Allura talking cheerfully to Lance and the other man while Pidge is checking the papers Allura gave her before. Shiro knows Keith wouldn’t invite him if he wasn’t comfortable with him, but he’s painfully aware of how he doubles the age of each one of them and he feels very out of place, “I- I don’t want to impose, I could just-” 

“You won’t,” Keith assures, giving a glance over his shoulder and then to him, startled, “Unless you’re uncomfortable. You don’t have to if-” 

“Keith,” he rushes to interrupt, leaning to him subconsciously, “I’d love to.” 

Keith turns away, but Shiro catches his blush before his face is carefully covered with his hair. And, wow, Shiro is in so much trouble. 

“Okay,” Keith breathes, fidgeting a bit, “okay, let’s go.” 

Shiro follows, and is pleasantly warmed by the fire-cracking scent, which he has learned to know comes out when Keith is genuinely content. He wants to drown in it. 

“Okay.” 


	6. Just enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is just an old alpha with a crush on the omega behind ASMR and soft, raspy voice. On the omega with cute eyes and black hair and devastating smile. Shiro is just... nothing, compared to him.

Shiro has friends.

It’s kind of strange of a statement because it sounds like Shiro is a petulant child trying to prove to his bullies he isn’t some weirdo with no friends instead of being the 40-year-old adult he is and accepting he has made friends over the years.

Thing is he hasn’t. The friends he had while being with Adam cut ties with him after the divorce, taking sides when it shouldn’t be like that. It wasn’t as painful as he thought at first, because most of them didn’t even like him and it was _very_ mutual. But he still longs for Mariana’s dad jokes he could respond to with the same dorkiness, and Steve’s delicious honey buns he would bake every time they had a little party.

Still, one year and a half after he was left out and all his not-at-all friends left, Shiro spends his Friday nights and whole weekends alone in his couch, watching a movie or a show with those recorded laughs that he winces at. Sometimes with a beer, sometimes with takeout. Sometimes even Matt makes him company, when he’s not busy with his work projects like he is right now.

But Matt is his friend. He counts. And Shiro is sure Curtis and Veronica from his office are his friends, too, although he hasn’t actually spent time with them outside of work hours. Hell, maybe even Slav is his friend, if Shiro isn’t being picky.

So, yeah, he has friends. He thinks.

“I...”

Lance narrows his eyes, lips pursued in suspicion, and Shiro sighs.

“I have friends,” he repeats, glancing over where Allura smiles at him sweetly from the other side of the table while Pidge taps furiously in her pad. Shiro knows she’s smiling like that because she can’t hear the conversation Lance is leading him to.

“Then why were you free on a Saturday night?” Lance asks, wrinkling his nose when Shiro not-so-subtle tried to pry him off with his scent.

“I am allowed to be free on a Saturday night,” Shiro tries, and Lance tilts his head, actually considering, “Or do you have all your Saturday nights busy?”

Lance studies him and snickers.

“Of course,” he says, tipping his chin up in pride, “I’m a man on high demand, you know. Many girls would kill to have a date with me.”

And yet, here he is, on a Wings & Beer Restaurant with his friends instead, but Shiro doesn’t dare to say it.

“But that’s normal for a 23-year-old young omega,” Lance continues with a whip of his head, as if his hair was long enough to brush it over his shoulder and not little brown curls near his skull, “What about you?”

Shiro frowns, Lance watching him and waiting for an answer.

“I...” He stops himself right before saying the same ‘I have friends,’ and sighs, defeated, “I lost most of my friends after I divorced.”

The arch in Lance’s eyebrows flatten quickly, and he pulls away from him, his face carefully blank. Shiro feels wrong at how understanding washes over his eyes, though.

“Oh,” he says to the table, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s just.” Lance makes a gesture and huffs, “It’s weird, you know.”

And, yeah, Shiro knows.

Two weeks have passed ever since that first hang out after his interview at the lab. Shiro was very surprised that the hang outs started being a common thing for him to do after every appointment with Pidge. Or Allura, if Pidge was busy —he learned that Allura is a neuroscientist, just in her last semester to get a master degree, and somehow, they made good friends.

That first interview was a terror, and the next tests she made on him when Pidge was busy weren’t really comfortable with how self-conscious Shiro would get. But Allura was sweet and careful after it, leaving behind all the science talk to a friendly chatter of how her day has been doing. Shiro easily falls into conversation, talking about his day in the office and his projects, and more than enough he has followed her to the out-of-study room.

He has hanged out with her a lot because of that, at least staying to have a cup of tea or a glass of juice, talking and laughing about this and that. Sometimes, though, Pidge is already in the room when they arrive, and Shiro has to awkwardly stare at his beverage because he can’t follow the conversation they’re having.

Other times, when Shiro is lucky, Hunk is in the room, cooking or baking. Shiro has started to get very fond to Hunk, how soft and sweet he is despite his size. It’s easy to talk to him while the two girls ramble about their new discoveries, Hunk only intercepting with a few comments because, well, _of course_ , he is the engineer of the whole place, even when he’s barely 23, and Shiro is so impressed with this group of youngsters.

First, Pidge because, okay, Shiro can’t quite grasp how there’s so much knowledge in someone so tiny. If she isn’t rambling about secondary genders, she can keep up talking about engineering and physics and Shiro is overwhelmed by her. The only thing that could actually stop him from feeling so small is how she grumbles when her hair doesn’t stay out of her face or how she bites on the end of her pen when she’s thinking too hard.

It makes her human, he thinks.

Second, Allura. She might not be as overwhelming as Pidge, but Shiro knows it’s because she’s aware of her intelligence and power and decides not to use it as Pidge does without thinking. Of course, there’s times she gets so passionate about something she starts talking too fast, but blushes when she catches herself and Shiro thinks she’s adorable.

He knew later on that she’s 25 years old and her uncle is the owner of the coffee shop Keith works on, Coran, who is a very colorful character, if Shiro can say it. They’re almost the same age, but Coran is unmistakably foreign. Or weird.

Shiro doesn’t want to say weird. But he is.

Third, Hunk, the beta who is engineer of, apparently, the whole lab? Shiro still doesn’t know how he does that, but it seems logical at how many times his phone beeps at the end of the day and he heads out with a quick bye. It seems like he has other two or three people at his command, but he’s such a sweetheart that he doesn’t like giving orders, instead going to fix whatever it’s not working correctly.

Also, to Shiro’s still growing impression, Hunk built most of the equipment, so he knows every single piece of tech in the building like the palm of his hand. Shiro would love to have him on team at Atlas, but he knows he can’t really just bring along someone new even when he’s the boss of the project.

Fourth, Keith, because, wow, _Keith_. His mere existence is everything to Shiro. He’s brilliant, not only in secondary genders and communication, which he’s pretty awesome already. But also has knowledge in mechanical engineering, has a bike —an actual Harley Davidson Iron 883 that Shiro almost drooled when he saw Keith getting off of it one morning. Not because Keith was gorgeous in it, shaking his hair after taking off his helmet matching the cherry red color of the bike, but because Shiro had always wanted one when he was young and stupid, and now feels young and stupid enough to ask for a ride on it. He hasn’t though, thinking it might be too weird.

And, to Shiro’s mortification, Keith is very perceptive to scents and hormones. Not in the way they affect him, although it could happen, but the way he can understand every single change in a smell and relate it directly to how the person feels. It has happened too many times now, when Shiro comes to the lab after a rough day or slumps over the out-of-study room after a session with Allura and Keith is immediately over him, asking about how he’s doing and calming him down with his own scent. It's soothing in the best ways, especially since Keith is careful enough to not overwhelm; he knows the exact quantity of smoky scent, of friendly touches, of the distance between their bodies.

And it’s weird because Shiro doesn’t like when people fuss over him, because of his broken-bond or his lack of right arm. But with Keith it’s easy, because, even when Shiro feels guilty that Keith takes care of him so thoroughly, it doesn’t feel like pity. And it helps that he does it with everyone else —when Pidge is in a bad mood, or if Allura or Lance are in low spirits, Keith manages to soothe them. Even Hunk, without a scent or a mood to smell on the air.

Keith just knows, and it terrifies Shiro as much as it impresses him.

And then Lance.

Lance is...

He can’t really explain it.

There’s nothing really impressive about him, if Shiro thinks about it, but he has felt dread every time Lance’s shirt falls slightly off his neck and he catches the twin scars of a bite in the back, just over his scent glands. Shiro tries not to stare or think about it, because he knows how rude and uncomfortable it is for someone to stare. And, well, just because it looks faintly similar to Shiro’s broken-bond mark doesn’t mean it is, so he ignores it a lot.

Still, the idea haunts him too many times —Lance, as a young omega of 23 years, already bonded _and_ broken-bonded. An ex-bonded partner that he seems to not like to remember. With a self-confident attitude that really makes you wonder if the way he acts is the way he feels. With a scent similar to a summer day at the beach and watermelon-sweet that gets a bit salty when he complains or bickers with Keith.

And it’s very weird to Shiro, because while he has seen Keith cheer Lance up a few times, he has never paid too much attention to him as he does with Shiro. It might be because Shiro is an alpha and Lance is an omega, so Keith can’t help a lot as an omega himself. But it could be that Lance really doesn’t need it as much as Shiro does. Maybe Lance’s bond broke too early and there weren’t much negative effects. Maybe Shiro is too weak because of his age and sudden loneliness after 15 years of not being alone. Maybe he’s reading too much into it and the mark over Lance’s neck doesn’t mean anything.

Either way, bond mark or not, Shiro feels like Lance hated him. He didn’t know why but figured he didn’t need a reason. A whole ass old man has been hanging out with 20-year-olds, and while Shiro thought most of them would think it was uncomfortable to have Shiro with them on their game nights or usual dinners, only Lance has been a little irksome by him.

So, yeah, he knows. He knows it’s weird, _unsettling_ , to have an alpha who almost doubles their age hanging out so easily with them. Someone had to point it out sooner or later, and Shiro prefers it sooner rather than later, when he gets too attached and it hurts when he has to cut ties with them.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro apologizes, Lance looking up at him with a startle, “I know it’s uncomfortable to spend your Saturday nights with an old man like me. I could get out of your hair if you want to.”

And, to Shiro’s surprise, Lance looks pretty shocked. 

“Excuse me, what?” he said. Gasped, actually, like he had offended him instead of despise himself, “You think you make me uncomfortable?”

“Well.” Shiro winces, not really liking that seemingly he’d have to explain it, “It might seem to you that I’m trying to...” He gestures and Lance’s eyes follow his hand attentively, making him huff, “You know. Like, take advantage of you?”

Lance’s mouth falls open and he straightens in his seat, frowning.

“Wait,” he says showing the palms of his hands and looking away just to turn to Shiro and point at his chest and then to himself, “ _You_ taking advantage of _me_.”

And, okay, maybe Shiro should’ve specified about ‘you’ meaning all of them as a group, not Lance in particular. But maybe he read too much into other things along with the maybe-broken-bond mark.

“I-”

“Shiro.” Lance stops him, shaking his head, “You know I’m very in love with Allura, right?” 

Okay, _okay_ , what’s happening?

“Lance-”

“And, while, okay, you’re pretty cute and everything,” Lance continues, gesturing over him, “I’m not into boys. Or, well, _men_ , you know.”

Shiro frowns and resists the urge to scoff.

“Lance, I wasn’t-”

“And, yeah,” Lance interrupts again, “I might be a little suspicious about how you look at Keith and all that, but I get it, okay? He’s a great omega and all the other alphas are all over him and whatever.”

Shiro’s frown deepens, now in grim. Not because Lance has certainly noticed how interested Shiro really is in Keith but, about the _other_ alphas Shiro has no idea about.

“Wait-”

“But, Shiro, _sweetie_.” Lance emphasizes, pressing together his thumb and pointer finger, like he needs to baby -alk Shiro because he doesn’t understand. And maybe Shiro doesn’t, because thoughts are still going around ‘all the other alphas’ thing said about Keith, “You’re completely harmless. Believe me. I’ve seen how alphas can get around Keith, even around me, and you, honey, are soft enough to knock Keith to sleep, but like a fluffy pillow.”

Shiro opens his mouth and closes it, really not knowing what to say at such information.

He's aware that, as an alpha, he doesn’t represent that kind of danger to an omega, taking in count that he has control over his instincts and it’s been almost 10 years since his last rut. But, still, there’s a lot of people who expects him to, even when Shiro knows even rut-minded he would never try to take someone who wouldn’t consent to it before.

Anyways, having someone as Lance tell him the exact opposite of that makes him feel out of place. Or as if he just noticed something he hasn’t seen before. Lance read him easily, and while it might be because Shiro is too evident with how he feels, no one, not Allura, Pidge or Hunk, has called him out like this.

Shiro is sure even Keith knows, but being the person in question, he might be oblivious at the same time.

“Oh,” he says, because maybe Lance isn’t as intelligent as Pidge or Allura, or as skillful as Keith and Hunk, but, god, whatever that was, it was _very_ impressive, “Then, you don’t hate me?”

Lance’s brows furrow, a couple of wrinkles above the bridge of his nose, and he sighs heavily.

“I don’t hate you, fellow,” he says, maybe a little obnoxious, but still soft, “It’s just...”

He watches him for a long moment, and then huffs.

“I just wonder,” he murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest and giving him a pointed look, “You look like have a lot to do in your life and still you spend so much time with us. And I get that you want to spend time with Keith because.” He rolls his eyes and Shiro feels it like a punch in the gut, “But, why us?”

Shiro stays quiet, musing over it, trying to find a reason he hasn’t considered before. He finds out he actually cares for them.

Yeah, maybe it’s the need to protect the little group of young adults he officially met a couple of weeks ago, but he has grown fond of them. They all are very lovable in their own way. But while seeing Keith has been something he looks up to every day he goes to the lab, he’s not just spending time with his friends just to get close to him. He’s genuinely interested in them as friends. He feels more welcome in this little group than on the group of friends he wasted years of his life with.

“I like you all,” Shiro answers, looking up to Lance after fidgeting too much with the polymer in the joints of his prosthetic's fingers, “I like spending time with you.”

And, to his amusement, Lance squints at him, as if he could see if Shiro was lying and hiding his inexistent ulterior motives in his face.

“You know you could just try your chances with Keith instead of trying to get to him through us, right?”

And, wow, Lance _is_ impressive in his own way.

“I...” Shiro sighs and then catches sight of Keith over Lance’s shoulder, finally getting back to the table with a waitress and Hunk in tow, “I don’t have a chance.”

He’s not sure what face Lance makes at him, but still continues, wanting to say it before Keith can hear him.

“I’m just an old man,” he murmurs, feeling sorry for himself, “I shouldn’t feel this way in the first place. Keith deserves better. Just as friends is enough.”

It should feel better to say it out loud, to finally acknowledge it. To understand there’s no way Keith —beautiful, intelligent, young Keith— would want something with Shiro, as much as Shiro was attractive or harmless or genuinely in love, or maybe a great shot, if that’s how young people talk. Shiro is just an old alpha with a crush on the omega behind ASMR and soft, raspy voice, on the omega with cute eyes and black hair and devastating smile. Shiro is just... nothing, compared to him.

“Oh, _Shiro_.”

Shiro startles, looking at Lance at how insisting his voice sounds, and finding his blue eyes rolling annoyingly at him makes him frown.

“What,” he sputters, blushing at the thought that maybe his scent got wild and he’s being obvious again, but doesn’t look disgusted, nor wrinkles his nose, “What did I-”

“You’re so- Just- Wow.”

Shiro blinks at him, mouth agape.

“What,” he blurts out again, but Lance just shakes his head and turns his shoulder at Shiro when Hunk and Keith arrive with the waitress, ready to take their order.

“Hey,” Keith drops stopping right beside Lance and crossing his arms, “You’re in my seat.”

Lance rolls his eyes and stands up, pushing his way to his chair near Allura, who smiles at him while ordering a lemonade.

“You okay?”

Shiro turns to Keith, who is leaning over the table with his forearms, tilted over Shiro’s space with an intimacy that Shiro can’t quite get used to. He likes it, yes, but his heart still sputters when he hears his voice, when he looks at him, so close and perfect.

“I-” He clears his throat, “Yes, I’m... I’m okay.”

Keith studies him quietly, and then it’s their turn to order.

And if Shiro told the waitress he wanted a keer instead of a beer, well, only Lance snickers at him and Keith hides his smirk behind his palm, so he doesn’t care of his mistakes as long as it provokes a smile on Keith.


	7. Other alphas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro has never felt that way before. Not even the first time he slept with Adam, or on their wedding night, or when he bit his neck while deep inside him. 
> 
> Shiro was in control then. With Keith it was a whole new experience of having to learn take control over himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK IN TOWN

Shiro has never been the jealous type of person. 

When he had a crush on Adam in college, he never felt bothered by other people talking about him, about how they would like to date him or even take him to bed. Maybe it was how he deemed himself unworthy, or maybe he just was more preoccupied on finishing college rather than the rumored romances you apparently lived while coursing it. 

Either way, nothing changed when they started dating. Seeing Adam being hit on and flirted with right in front of him didn’t bother him as much. He pouted, of course, and teased Adam about it, but he never felt actually mad about it. He never knew why, but even after the problems starting between them, after Adam started to deliberately flirt with other people in front of him, he never got angry. 

Everyone told him it wasn’t normal. As an alpha, Shiro should have the possessive need to have his omega’s unwavering attention. He never liked the implication, though, because that meant that his desire to have Adam’s attention was just because of their bond and not because they were in love. He later on understood he wasn’t actually in love with Adam. He loved him —of course he loved him, that’s why he married him— but not in the possessive way most alphas love their omegas (which, by the way, was something he didn’t like —how do you take possession of someone if that person is their own person? Some stuff about secondary genders is just messed up). 

Shiro figured that maybe after the bond, he would feel the need to possess with much more urge, and his inner alpha would beg for it more constantly —he was aware there was some stuff he couldn’t control, some stuff that despite how controlled he was over his instincts, he couldn’t fight against some—, or with every rut. But after a few months, after a few years, after he stopped having ruts all together because of his age, he noticed nothing had changed. 

He still was fond of Adam, of course, because they were friends before they started dating and despite their romantic relationship went to hell and they hated the guts of the other, they still had some affection —or at least Shiro had, because he really couldn’t hate someone who had been in his best and worst moments, as much as they had fucked up at the end. 

Then their bond broke and Shiro figured he’ll never feel the possessive urge that everyone thought an alpha should— _must_ have for their partners. 

But then with Keith- 

Oh, with _Keith_. 

Before he could properly meet him, before he could actually know about him and properly fall in love, he had scented the whole coffeeshop they were in before he could even catch up with what he was feeling. Some stuff is still cloudy from that moment, his inner alpha going wild at the smoky scent coming from Keith, at the rugged up but beautiful look Keith had, at the voice he had fallen asleep to every night and woke up to listen every morning for the last months, but he remembers how the words _want_ and _omega_ and _take_ and _mine_ were overwhelming his senses. 

Shiro has never felt that way before. Not even the first time he slept with Adam, or on their wedding night, or when he bit his neck while deep inside him. 

Shiro was in control then. With Keith it was a whole new experience of having to learn take control over himself. 

More than not he had to pull himself together when Keith talked —raspy, soft tone of voice, similar to the way he whispered little things and sweet promises through his headphones— to keep from rumbling deep in his chest. Or the way he smelled —soft and smoky, with a spice on it that made Shiro sober up and get drunk of the same second— to stop himself from taking deep whiffs of it every time Keith leaned over his space. Or the way he looked —because of course Keith was the most gorgeous man he had ever seen and he’s sure no one would ever compare to him— to keep still and don’t let his hands reach and wander, because he didn’t have any right and they were just friends. 

Or just him as a whole, because, if Shiro was being completely honest, he has never met someone as quiet and at the same time stunning as Keith is. 

Still, there’s been too many times when he had scented Keith before he could stop himself, when he had whimpered or whined for Keith when they were seating close, and when he had growled low and threatening at Axca’s scent on Keith’s clothes or at Allura herself when she’s been standing just beside Keith, in a completely friendly manner and at a distance that wouldn’t be misinterpreted. 

It had been embarrassing, to say the least. And worse had been that Keith didn’t seem to mind. He never pulled away from his touch or invasion of space, he never looked angry or baffled, aside from seeming a little taken aback by Shiro’s attention and blushing prettily when Shiro couldn’t stop himself from brushing his hair away from his face. 

At least their friends haven’t pointed it out when it happened in front of them. They have some respect for Shiro’s dignity to maybe comment it when he was not in the room or to mention it off-handedly when in his appointments, which Shiro found a little mortifying but at the same time he was grateful they didn’t hold it against him. They were as friendly as ever. 

Either way, Shiro figured that the whole group was kind of used to this kind of situations, seeming that some of their patients at the lab were close friends of theirs. Also, Lance had told him Keith already has a lot of attention from other alphas, so that might be why he is unfazed when Shiro behaves a certain way with him. But, if that was meant to lower the jittery feeling of shame and need, it didn’t work since it made him even more restless. 

And now- 

Oh, _now_. 

“Who’s that?” 

Romelle flinches away at the growl on his voice, her purple eyes going wide with concern. He doesn’t blame her —it’s the very first time this has happened in front of her and with anyone else they had brushed it off and answered the question without a blink. But it wasn’t just the growl, and Shiro is very aware of it; his commonly brown-sugar-sweetened mint scent had gone sour, and of course Romelle wasn’t used to him losing control over his pheromones despite how much time they had started to spend time together —after she found out Keith and him have been going every week to the diner she loves the milkshakes from, she started going with them every week, and while Shiro was a little bummed out that now he didn’t have time alone with Keith, he was very amused when Keith got very bashful at her call out, right before asking —or demanding, really—to take her with them. 

Either way, it’s been only a couple of weeks of them going to the diner together, and today hasn’t been different from every Monday for Shiro, not until he stepped out of the lab with Romelle talking his ear off about her day to meet with Keith right outside when he is met with the scene that makes his inner alpha growl in displeasure and lose control of his scent. 

Keith is waiting for them under the shadow of a tree, leaned against the trunk and smoking a cigar like always. But right now there’s someone else beside him, standing too close for Shiro’s comfort and being quite _friendly_ with Keith. 

He’s taller than Keith —even taller than Shiro, which was impressive— and his hair is grown out and pulled together in an overly complicated braid, very similar to the ones sometimes Keith wears. The idea of them having some kind of relationship that implies the use of the same hairstyle makes Shiro’s blood boil. He’s smoking, too, which could be the reason he’s standing too close to Keith, but he still shouldn’t be so _close_ -

“Shiro,” he hears Romelle call for him, but it’s as if he’s submerged in water and far away from her, “Shiro, breathe.” 

Shiro tries to obey, taking a deep breath of his own sour scent and Romelle’s cotton candy ice cream and soda. It makes him cough and pull out of it with a startle. 

“Oh,” he murmurs, shaking his head and bringing a hand to his face, “I-” 

“Are you okay?” she asks, genuinely concerned, and Shiro frowns, not knowing how to answer. 

“I...” he starts, but trails off, looking away to where Keith is, engaging in a conversation with a bigger, stronger, and much younger alpha than him, “I...” 

He hates it, he realizes. He hates how Keith is close to someone else aside from to Shiro himself. He hates how the alpha leans over his space and Keith isn’t bothered by it. He hates how the evening breeze goes by them and brings to Shiro Keith’s smoky-sweet scent perfectly mixed with the alpha’s gunpowder one. As if it’s meant like that. As if they’re meant for the other. He hates how Keith looks up to the alpha and smiles and _laughs_. 

He _hates_. 

“Shiro,” Romelle repeats, and Shiro catches himself growling louder. 

He brings a hand to his mouth to contain it, but it’s too late the moment Keith’s head tilts to it and then turns to them, frowning. Shiro tries to play it cool, but from one moment to the next Keith is putting out his cigarette and walking off to them, waving off the alpha when he tries to pull closer or walk Keith to the door. 

“It’s fine, Regris,” he hears him say over his shoulder to the alpha, and Shiro shouldn’t goad in the way the alpha backs off almost immediately, despite reluctant. 

“Hey,” Shiro breathes when Keith is close enough, and a pang of happiness hits him when Keith smiles at him. 

“Hey,” Keith answers, glancing at Romelle, “You guys ready?” 

Shiro is about to answer that yes, he’s very ready to walk away from there with Keith by his side just to let the other alpha know Keith is choosing Shiro over him, but Romelle interjects. 

“Isn’t that Regris?” she asks, and Shiro doesn’t even care, starting to walk away and grateful that none of them say something about it, following him almost immediately. Shiro doesn’t understand much, but he just knows he wants get away from there and from the alpha still staring at them from the tree. 

“Oh, yeah,” Keith says, shrugging it off, “He has an appointment with Pidge in a few minutes. But wanted a smoke before going in.” 

“Was it a smoke or an excuse to spend time with you?” Romelle teases, and to Shiro’s dismay, Keith _blushes_. 

“He- uh-” Keith stutters, and okay, _what the fuck_. 

“Who is he?” He asks before he can stop himself, and Keith frowns to the ground, biting his lower lip. 

“He’s the alpha Keith brought a couple days before he met you!” Romelle says with a voice too cheerful for Shiro’s liking, “He’s been very _interested_ in Keith ever since day one.” 

“Rommy,” Keith warns, but his voice is a bit strained, and Shiro realizes it’s because he’s bashful. 

“Can you believe that Regris recognized Keith’s voice the same way you did?” Romelle continues despite it, amazement brightening her eyes and scent, now overly sweet and lively, “In the same coffeeshop and in the same week! How awesome is that!” 

“Really?” Shiro mutters, trying to keep his bother in check. 

“He did!” Romelle exclaims, “He’s a listener of Red, and Keith asked him if he wanted to be part of the research! It’s very surprising that it happened with you, too!” 

“Is that so,” Shiro says quietly, and Keith rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not that surprising. Allura has encountered many of her listeners during the year, too,” Keith says, trying to undermine it. And Shiro, for the love of god, needs to hold onto something that isn’t a very worthy alpha that is very interested in Keith. 

“Allura records too?” he asks, trying to make his voice sound curious, and while it completely fools Romelle and she starts blabbering about how Lance fell for her because of them, Keith stays awfully quiet. 

It’s true that ever since Romelle joined their little moments of milkshakes and fries at the diner she’s the one who makes most of the conversation, always having something to say or gossip about every single person that comes to the lab —not about their medical information, which is very professional on Romelle’s part, but Keith always has a thing or two to say or to ask, and Shiro is very concerned when this time Keith only nods and hums, poking the top of his strawberry milkshake with a fry. 

And it’s until they are parting ways, with Romelle going on and on that she should be able to be an ASMR artist for alphas the same way Lance is, that Shiro realizes that something is off. Especially when Keith pauses before going after Romelle and looks back at Shiro, hands on the pockets of his leather jacket and hair ruffled with the last winter winds. 

“See you, Shiro,” he pronounces, almost as if it means something other than a goodbye, half a smile curving the corner of his pink-stained lips and face prettily flushed, “I- Uh- have a good night.” 

Shiro nods, so breathless he can’t manage a single ‘you too,’ and stays standing there in the sidewalk, seeing Keith walk away slowly with Romelle still talking about this and that. 

Shiro doesn’t realize what’s wrong until the wind goes through Keith’s hair and hits Shiro on the face, the slight but very noticeable change on Keith’s scent making him gasp softly. 

_Keith is on pre-heat_. 


	8. Incoming heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro doesn’t need to take care of Keith. 
> 
> But _god_ , does he want to. 
> 
> He wants to be there and help him through it, in any way Keith would like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this thing has been hell to me cuz I really think there's something msising, but oh well, I hope you like it!

Shiro knows how awful some omegas feel on their pre-heat.

It’s almost the same alphas feel when they are on pre-rut and can’t exactly focus on their daily life activities, the fever and the _urge_ slowly taking over them. For Shiro it never was as horrible as other people experience it. Yes, it’s uncomfortable, and sometimes how he felt on pre-rut defined how well or how bad the rut was going to be. 

In Adam’s case, though, he always had bad heats, and going into pre-heat would put him out of commission. Shiro always tried to be there for him and help him through it, not only with the sex but with a nest and keeping him hydrated, well-eaten and rested enough for him to feel okay when the heat was over. Adam took care of Shiro, too. He was very thorough with his needs and Shiro was grateful for his care when he had bad ruts. 

Still, he’s aware that it affects people in different ways. 

Shiro doesn’t know how it affects Keith, and it drives him crazy. 

He knows he shouldn’t be bothered by it —by how good or bad Keith’s heats are, how many blankets does he have available, if he has food and water and his favorite treats, if he shares them with someone or only aids, if he’s cuddly or needy or just-- 

But he shouldn’t know, Shiro reminds himself. He’s just Keith’s friend, Red’s listener, a subject of study. Most people don’t share how their heats or ruts go even with their closest friends —he doesn’t know, for a fact, how Matt’s go, for example, and Matt is his best friend— so he shouldn’t be annoyed if he doesn’t know. Only partners and closest family members know about it, and that’s fine, because they are the ones to take care of them. 

Shiro doesn’t need to take care of Keith. 

But _god_ , does he want to. 

He wants to be there and help him through it, in any way Keith would like. 

He knows it’s a dangerous thought, because the crush he’s been nursing for months developed into a painful yearning and now it seems like he can’t get out of love with Keith. 

Shiro shouldn’t be feeling this way for a man half his age. Shiro shouldn’t scent for someone who it’s just so out of his league. Shiro shouldn’t be shifting and turning all night trying to get some sleep while his mind plays dirty tricks on him recalling the way Keith smelled when they parted that evening. 

Shiro should just let it go. 

But he can’t. He can’t stop his thoughts from stumbling back to Keith. 

That is how he arrives to the lab the next day with heavy bags under his eyes and barely any rest. It had been a long day of work at the office —Thursday is when most of his coworkers are restless because of the lack of coffee in the common room. Even Shiro, who doesn't drink coffee in a daily basis is aching for one to stay awake. 

On his way to the lab, he’s glad today is just a quick check-up and not a list of tests that would have him arriving home at late night. He’s craving take-out food and a hot shower and an early night of sleep if he can get to fall asleep in the first place. 

But the moment he walks inside the lab lobby, the drowsiness snaps when he catches Keith’s scent again. 

Shiro freezes, the front door closing behind him with a click, and he has to stop himself before a growl can grow out his throat —the scent is spicier. Gorgeous. Just before the heat breaks over the omega. And Shiro has to cough when he realizes it’s coming off the clothes of an alpha woman at the reception desk. 

Acxa gives him a look from the other side of the desk, over the alphas shoulder, and Shiro clears his throat, feeling himself blush when he catches the tiniest hint of a smirk in her mouth. 

“He told me he needs a couple of books he left in the break room?” the alpha woman says, and Acxa nods. 

“Yes, Romelle left them here this morning,” she replies, opening a cabinet behind her. 

“Thank you, Acxa,” the alpha murmurs, suddenly slumping on the desk and sighing heavily, “I just can’t understand why he’s so adamant on keep working when he’s in heat.” 

Acxa raises an eyebrow, sliding the books over the desk. 

“Looks like stubbornness is running in the family,” she comments with a teasing tone, shocking Shiro. 

The alpha scoffs, and the sound is so similar to Keith’s that Shiro almost see his half-smirk and roll of eyes. 

“More from his father’s side of the family,” the alpha counters and Acxa almost smirks, eyes going over the shoulder’s alpha and to Shiro. 

She nods at him, as quiet as ever even when Shiro heard her talk to this woman so easily, but he’s sure it’s because they’re close, if the way her scent has eased down a bit. It’s not because she hates him, Shiro hopes. 

He wants to take a deep breath to steady himself and keep, but he stops himself short when Keith’s scent lingers in the room, combined with the alphas’ but unmistakable in the air. Looming. Waiting. Expecting. 

Shiro clears his throat. 

“I- uh...” he mumbles, taking a tentative step to the desk. But he freezes all over again when the alpha turns to him, eyes sharp. 

It makes Shiro have to take a double take, blinking rapidly a handful of times before his sight settles. She practically a carbon copy of Keith —sharp features, lean body, long limbs. She might be taller than Keith, almost to Shiro’s height, and her hair is a lot longer in the back, purple streaks coloring the black strands. Her posture is powerful, as if she’s ready to stop a truck going full-speed with her bare hands, and judging by the muscles in her arms she has on display despite being the middle of February and the winter still running its air in the mornings and evenings, she just might. 

Either way, what has Shiro struck once again are the indigo eyes watching him closely, a color he has thought about for too long ever since he met Keith’s gaze. 

This alpha woman is- 

"Hi?” she asks, tilting her head to the side in contemplation, and Shiro dreads, “Are you Shiro?” 

“I- uh-” He swallows, “Yes, ma’am.” 

She hums, looking him up and down, and Shiro stops himself from reaching his nape in bashfulness. Her studious gaze might not cause the same giddiness Keith’s attentive one causes, but Shiro still feels squirmy, hesitating on taking another step. 

But then she huffs, amused by some kind of inner joke, and rolls her eyes. 

“Like mother like son,” she mutters, and Shiro wonders if she knew his mom before she died a few years ago. 

“Excuse me?” he asks and she shrugs, Acxa finally putting the books in the counter. Shiro is almost sure he saw her roll her eyes. 

“Do not worry, boy,” she says, despite her being maybe just a few years older than him, “Talking to myself.” 

He blinks, confused, and catches how Acxa rolls her eyes. 

“Is that all?” Acxa asks, and the alpha pats her head once, affectionate. 

“Come to dinner once in a while, would you?” the alpha says, her scent awfully soothing, similar to Keith’s, “And bring Kolivan, if he’s not busy.” 

Shiro’s eyebrows rise at how Acxa smiles. 

“Knowing him, he’d move all his schedule to see you,” she says, and the alpha huffs, a blush creeping up her cheeks. 

“Yeah, well,” she chuckles, “Let’s not hope he doesn’t get the city in chaos because of it.” 

Acxa rolls her eyes, and then the alpha is leaning on the counter, her shoulder going up and down as if pointing at something. Shiro realizes it’s at him when Acxa’s gaze falls on him. He stutters, not knowing what to do, especially when Acxa’s lips curve in a corner. 

“Like mother like son,” Acxa _teases_. Shiro can’t believe it. 

“Shut up,” the alpha grumbles under her breath and then she’s turning to Shiro, indigo eyes scanning him one more time, looking at Acxa over her shoulder “Gotta go. Keith’s in the car and he’s most likely wanting to kill someone.” 

She walks towards Shiro, and Shiro scrambles a bit to get out of her path, then rushing to open the door for her. She pauses to give him a look, softening into a kind smile. 

“Thank you,” she says with a nod. 

Shiro nods back, afraid of moving more than necessary, afraid of not suppressing his scent enough to keep his jittery hormones in check. The way her eyes narrow on him makes him feel like he’s being tested. It’s so different from the stare downs many alphas have to show their strength. Shiro feels so afraid under her gaze and he’s not about to pretend he isn’t. 

“I’m Krolia,” she says suddenly, after a few minutes of just standing there in the open doorway, the chilled air of February making Shiro shiver but she doesn’t even blink, “Keith’s mother.” 

Shiro stares at the offered hand she extends to him after shifting the books to her other arm, and then he rushes to take it, trying to give the best handshake he has ever given. She doesn’t spare his prosthesis more than a glance. 

“Takashi Shirogane,” he introduces himself, “Everyone calls me Shiro, though.” 

She nods solemnly, giving a firm handshake, and Shiro chuckles out of nerves. 

“But you already know that,” he mutters and Krolia’s smile widens a bit. 

“I do,” she concedes and then she lets go of his hand, “Nice meeting you.” 

Then she turns around and walks out the door, Shiro stopping himself from wandering behind her, his inner alpha pleading for the possibility of seeing Keith or just follow his lingering scent on her clothes. Shiro’s rational mind stomps on his instincts. 

“Good job,” he hears Acxa comment under her breath when he manages to close the door with a tight grip. 

“Thank you,” he exhales, “I have a quick check-up with Pidge?” 

Acxa nods looking down and typing on the desk computer while he approaches. 

Shiro thinks about what just happened, meeting Keith’s mom in such a situation, and figures that’s just the way a terrible day deserves to end. 

But then the front door of the labs opens again and Shiro freezes in the middle of the lobby. Before he can even feel the cold, Keith’s pre-heat scent hits his nostrils, and he can’t stop himself from taking a deep, stilted breath. He catches how Acxa tenses, her gaze going past Shiro and to the door. 

“Keith-” Shiro hears Krolia’s voice, unmistakable motherly-stern tone. 

“I left something in the break room,” Keith’s voice rings across the lobby and Shiro feels himself jump at it, spicy smell stronger than ever. 

“I have your books here,” Krolia says and Shiro faintly imagines her waving the books up, “We have to go before your heat starts properly.” 

“I still have time,” Keith huffs, the most confident Shiro has ever heard him, “I'm fine, I just-” 

He stops talking suddenly, steps stopping a few feet away from Shiro, and Shiro chokes on air, the powerful scent wandering through the room enveloping around him like a tight rope. 

“Shiro.” 

Shiro knows he shouldn’t. Looking at Keith, responding to his voice — _breathless_ —, reacting to his scent — _alluring_ — might provoke something he can’t have control of. Shiro can feel the way Acxa’s eyes go from him to Keith, scent prickled with panic, and Shiro doesn’t even want to perceive what Krolia’s hormones are pretending —softness for his kid, soothing for an omega, caution from an unfamiliar alpha. 

But he can’t stop himself. He turns before his mind screams to stay put. To not move until everything is under control again. Until Keith is safe. Secure. _Protected-_

“ _Keith_ ,” he hears Krolia warn, alpha voice booming through the room, but Shiro doesn’t even flinch. 

The time seems to pause when their eyes meet. Shiro has to keep himself from gasping, knowing it would be devastating, but the way Keith’s gaze —heavy, deep, hazed over— lands on Shiro is _ruining_. His whole appearance is, in reality —Keith’s hair, black as a raven, is more tussled and disheveled than it normally is, and his cheeks are rosy even under the blush from the cold outside. Before, his scent was enough to make Shiro breathless, but now, Shiro swears it pumps his beat so quickly his heart threatens to push out of his chest. 

Shiro clears his throat, suddenly dry and raspy, and he’s acutely aware of the way his mind starts to fog with the smokey scent coming from Keith. 

The first time Shiro has scented an omega in pre-heat that wasn’t his own husband, his own partner, was when he was a young adult, when he caught his mother’s scent before her heat came over her. He had been prepared for it — his father had taught him how to bear with it and Shiro had grown up knowing how to control his hormones ever since he presented as an alpha. It hadn’t been difficult. 

The second time, though, it had been in the second year of college, when he found an omega swaying on their feet while trying to reach their dorm, to lock themselves up before the heat washed over them properly. Shiro had asked if they were okay, if they needed help to make it safe and sound to their room, if it was alright for Shiro to walk them to their door, to protect them from knot-brained alphas that could try to attack the weakened omega. Despite the wary look the omega had given Shiro, they had trusted him, and Shiro ended up following to their room from a safe distance — far enough to not fall into rut from the heat scent but close enough to scare off unwanted attention. 

It had worked just fine, even when the scent had lingered in Shiro’s clothes — Adam hadn’t spoken to him for a week after that. 

But now, the third time Shiro confronts his instincts head on in front of an omega about to go in heat, is the first time ever he doesn’t trust his self-control. 

He vaguely aware of a buzz coming from behind him, from where Acxa is seated, and then there's some bustling from where the double doors open from inside the lab, many alarmed voices talking over the other. Shiro knows they are familiar, but he can’t point out exactly who they are thoughts rambling about Keith, Keith, _Keith_ — 

“Keith,” he breathes out, a soft rumble starting from the bottom of his throat he forces down for to not frighten the omega standing in front of him. He doesn’t know what’s happening with Keith’s scent, but it’s starting to make him dizzy. 

“I’ll handle it,” he hears someone — Allura say faintly behind him, the noise dying down just a little, “Shiro, can you hear me?” 

He can. But the sole idea of gathering the enough attention to answer, to understand the words and formulate a response, is too much. He doesn't want to think. He doesn't want to pull his attention from Keith, from his _omega_ —

“Shiro, please,” the voice insists, alpha instincts prickling Shiro’s skin with goosebumps, “Come inside _right now_.” 

Keith blinks, a few times to clear the haze of his eyes, and then sways on his feet. His face is suddenly redder, breathing shallow and a sheer layer of sweat starting to stand out on his face. His scent goes impossibly sweeter, too, making Shiro take a deep breath of it without thinking. 

But panic blooms on Shiro’s chest when he sees Keith’s eyes flutter close, falling to his back, and he tries to step forward to catch him, uncaring for what his instincts might push him to do — they keep yelling ‘ _protect, protect, protect_ ', pleading for Keith to be safe and okay and — 

Someone screams his name behind him and suddenly there are arms are trying to restrain him, stopping his steps, making him falter, “Don’t get closer!” 

Shiro heaves a breath, trying to pull away from the tight holds on his chest and arms — there’s even a set of arms around one of his ankles — and he can’t keep down the growl that comes out of his chest when he sees another alpha catch his omega with frantic hands and concerned scent. She’s touching his omega’s forehead, brushing his hair away from his eyes with careful fingers, fussing over him as if she could help him, as if she’s what he _needs._

Shiro _knows_ what he needs. Shiro can give it to him. Shiro can take care of him. Shiro _wants_ to take care of him. 

“Keith-” 

“I’m fine,” Shiro hears softly from his omega, voice shaky, “I- uh-” He gulps, throat clicking, “I'm okay.” 

The alpha shakes his head at that, helping him get to his feet — _no, no, no. He should be carried. Shiro should help him. Shiro should carry him. Shiro should take care of him. Keep him safe. Keep him sated —_

“You’re in heat, Kit,” she mutters and Keith takes a breath, nodding, “It was supposed to hit tomorrow-” 

“I _know_ ,” Keith interrupts her with a growl, pain bleeding from his tone and making Shiro want to growl, “I know. I've never- It's just-” 

Shiro goes still when Keith’s eyes find him once again, now dark and glazed over with what his instincts tell him is the heat. But his scent is sobering up slowly, a word tapping at the back of Shiro’s skull for him to understand. 

_Don’t_ , Keith’s scent requests, _Please, don’t_. 

Oh.

Shiro lets out a breath, a dull pain punching his heart, and he stops fighting against the holds restraining him, pulling him to the doors in the lab. 

“Sorry,” he manages to whisper to Keith when he hears the double doors be opened behind him. Keith’s still on the floor with his mother’s arms around him, cheeks blushing and gaze clouded but scent shockingly controlled, “I’m sorry.” 

The last thing Shiro sees is Keith’s smile, tiny and shy, unfurling into something fond and sweet. 

_...ve you_ , he hears muffled at the back of his head, his inner alpha rumbling happily before Shiro feels everything go dark. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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